


Came Out Swinging

by fevversinherhair



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Childhood Friends, Eventual Fluff, F/M, It's Not Unrequited They're Just Stupid, Mixed Martial Arts, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fevversinherhair/pseuds/fevversinherhair
Summary: Nine months ago, Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman fought for the first time. Eren pursues his MMA career, Mikasa goes off to college. When his first big amateur match brings them back together, old memories and new feelings muddle the issue. (MMA AU)
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman & Armin Arlert & Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager
Comments: 108
Kudos: 279





	1. Saw You In A Dream

Certain people, Mikasa Ackerman thought, were kind of like a trick knee.

She knew a thing or two about them because she had one, the result of a torn ACL, a little souvenir from her judo days back in high school. It had been three years since the accident, and though surgery and three months in rehab meant she was back on the mat in almost no time, it never completely healed. Her knee would sometimes buckle all of a sudden when she was out for a run, or when she so much as twisted her leg at the wrong angle. Sometimes, there would be a phantom ache at the most random times, like when the weather turned colder. It happened again and again, but because the pain was dull and insignificant, she let it go, again and again.

Her personal trick knee was even harder to predict.

There were people who left your life without truly leaving, and it was not at all as poetic as it sounded. They left only to become an awful, gaping wound, a tear in the fabric, their absence as physical and tangible a thing as their presence had ever been. The strangest things would make her remember: the brilliant shade of blue-green reflecting off the surface of water; the first snow in winter, the kind of nights she could laugh and see her breath; the sound of leaves crunching underfoot. Every time, she would feel a tugging at her heart and an inexplicable weight in her chest.

Every time, she would find herself transported to her hometown, to the cul-de-sac where her house stood, to the sidewalk where she last saw him give his half-hearted goodbyes as she and Armin left for college.

And, as with her trick knee, she let it go. Eventually the feeling would pass, and her mind would drift back to the present.

It helped that her days were packed morning to night with schoolwork and her part-time job. Six days a week, she would roll out of bed for seven am classes, grab a late lunch with Armin at the cafeteria, rush over to the biology labs that took over the rest of her afternoon, and then spend the next few hours teaching self-defense to strangers. By the time she hauled herself back into her dorm room, it was some wonder that she could still find the energy to change into her pajamas before collapsing face-down on her mattress. Many days would pass without so much as a thought of him.

Many days, the ache in her chest was not an omen of any sort.

That day, though, it _was._

“Mikasa? Are you listening?”

She fidgeted in her seat a little, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, I am,” she told Armin with a nod. For a moment there, she was back in her head, back on that sidewalk almost a year ago. For a moment there, she wasn’t in the cramped cafeteria of their college campus, sitting across from her best friend. But his voice brought her back, as it always did, and all that was left of her little stroll down memory lane was that telltale pain in her chest.

The blond had been her friend since they were very young; they’d grown up together, one-third of a nearly inseparable trio in their little suburb. But they were a long way from their neighborhood, and they were one friend short. The last year, they had tiptoed around each other and that friend’s marked absence, keeping his name off their lips as though so much as _mentioning_ it would somehow make his not being there all too real.

So he hung in the space between them, a ghost in their midst that Mikasa had long tried to exorcise. All traces of him - photographs, mementos - lay hidden away, like a certain red scarf she had rolled up in a ball and banished to the back of her closet. Armin was aware of this, and had considerately let her grieve and forget, letting their old friend become the Voldemort that they would never talk about.

Today was the first time Armin said his name again, and she wasn’t prepared for it in the least.

“As I was saying,” he started, choosing his words with care, “Eren texted me to say he has a fight in the city this weekend, and that we should go.” Her friend paused, his blue eyes flicking up to her face to gauge her reaction. “If you want to. It would be nice to see him again, right? It’s… been a while.”

Mikasa said nothing at first, her eyes lowering to her salad as she picked at her food with increasing disinterest. “It _has_ been a while,” she answered in slow, begrudging agreement.

To be specific, it had been about nine months since they left their hometown and their best friend, who decided to defer college in hopes of pursuing his dreams of becoming a professional MMA fighter. In that time, she had typed out too many apologetic, pleading, and regretful text messages to count, only to erase them or leave them in drafts, unsent. At the most, they had exchanged greetings on birthdays and holidays, and each time, she felt downright miserable that someone who had once known all her deepest secrets had become a stranger. 

Her friend looked over at her sympathetically. “Hey,” he said, putting a reassuring hand on her arm, “It will be okay. If you want to go, I’ll be right there with you. We don’t even have to stay that long. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, too. I’ll make your excuses for you.”

She looked up at him, and he was all bright baby blue eyes as he waited for her response. _He_ wanted to go, that was for sure; it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. Try as he might to pretend he was fine with either answer, she could tell that he wanted nothing more than to watch the fight, and to have her with him when he did. That Armin wanted his two best friends in the world to actually be talking again was no secret. It was written plainly on his face.

“I don’t know, Armin… we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms,” she explained. It was an understatement. She knew in the back of her mind that Armin was just being diplomatic; that was how he was. There was no way that Eren had invited her specifically, not with the way they had said goodbye a year ago.

If you could even call it a goodbye, that is. The word seemed too generous. Eren had scarcely looked at her, sulked the entire time, gave Armin a small hug and her not even that. As far as farewells went, Eren Jaeger had truly phoned it in that day.

Armin nodded gravely. “And I’m not going to make his apologies for him, Mikasa… you deserve better than that. But you guys had more than ten years of friendship between you, you know?” he pointed out. “I’m not saying you have to forgive him. But maybe if you see each other you can put… whatever it is… to rest.” He gestured vaguely to the space between them, as though Eren himself was there, the _whatever it is_ that needed addressing. “But like I said. If you, at any moment, feel like you need to leave, I’ll go with you.”

She looked into his large, pleading eyes and let out a sigh. She just didn’t have it in her to deny him anything.

And she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to see Eren, either. The only difference was that she had become accustomed to lying to herself, at least where he was concerned.

“All right,” she conceded finally, “I’ll go.”

Armin’s tentative smile widened at that. “I’m not going to lie, I was hoping you’d come around,” he admitted, leaning back in relief, as though he had been bracing himself for her to say no. “It’s this Saturday at five, you don’t have a shift at the gym then, do you?” he asked, taking out his phone and scrolling back to Eren’s invitation text. Mikasa listened with equal parts amusement and trepidation as he read out his reply as he was typing it. “We’ll… be… there. And… send.”

Her only consolation was that Armin had been kind enough to give her an out in the invitation itself. He did tell her she could leave early if she wanted, and the fact that he not only expected her escape but also allowed it in advance gave her some comfort. She would see Eren again for the first time in almost a year, but she would have one foot out the door while doing it.

Was it cowardly? Of course. But Mikasa Ackerman chose her battles and she chose them well. It just so happened that Eren Jaeger just wasn’t an opponent she thought she had a chance against.

-o-

What was she doing here?

It had been four days since the invitation, three since she had first regretted her decision, two since she had worked up the courage to beg Armin to call it off, and one since she finally resigned herself to her fate. Or not _so_ finally. As late as ten minutes before they left, she debated telling Armin she was sick. She would have, except she knew that she was the world’s worst actress and could not fake-cough to fool anyone, much less the genius that was her best friend.

Not that her roommate, Sasha, would have heard of her not going, either. Her ears had perked up at even the slightest mention that Mikasa would be going somewhere _other_ than class and work, and had automatically assumed that this was a date. She took it upon herself to rifle excitedly through Mikasa’s tiny closet to choose anything that even _remotely_ resembled date attire.

Mid-haphazard ransacking, Sasha pulled out a familiar red scarf, wadded up in a ball in the very back. “What’s this?” she asked, unwrapping it to examine it more closely.

“... Just an old scarf,” Mikasa mumbled, taking it from her friend and folding it back up. It was old, very nearly threadbare, more of a dull burgundy now than the vibrant red it used to be ten years ago. She shook her head and tucked it back to its place behind the rest of her clothes. She was only thankful that Sasha was too preoccupied looking for an outfit to pay it - or her cheeks, which were by now redder even than the scarf - any more attention.

After finally settling on a cardigan and a cotton skirt that were only marginally more presentable than what she usually wore, Sasha sent her off with her blessing, and made her promise to bring home some food in exchange for her services. “Unless you aren’t planning on coming home tonight, in which case I’ll settle for a play-by-play!” Sasha added mischievously.

Later, when she and Armin arrived at the arena, she found herself trailing behind him like she wanted to hide, but with her being a full three inches taller than him, it was working about as well as one would think ( _read:_ not well). Armin turned to look at her, smiling reassuringly, as he tilted his head towards the seats. With a few tentative steps, she followed him as the cage loomed large before them.

Once again, she felt a painful squeeze in her heart as she remembered the last time she had been this close to a cage. The violent swing of fists and the sight of blood flashed before her eyes. Mikasa closed them and bid the thoughts away. If she kept this up, she wouldn’t even make it through the first five minutes.

She sat down next to Armin, on the third row closest to the ring. “Are you okay?” her friend mouthed, to which she nodded quietly. She couldn’t tell him that she thought she was about to be sick just from _remembering_ the last time all this had happened. She was here now, so she willed herself to still her shaking hands and tried to distract herself by looking at the audience.

For a bunch of amateur fights, the place was packed. Nearly every seat was occupied by people chatting excitedly for the fights to come. Someone passed by and handed Armin a flyer that announced that Eren’s fight was the first one, and that he was going up against someone named Thomas Wagner.

“It’s one of his first bigger amateur fights, so I guess they put him up first,” Armin said to no one in particular. She cast a sidelong glance at him. For a moment, Mikasa had forgotten that she wasn’t the only one who would be seeing Eren fight for the first time since _that_ night, the night everything had gone wrong. His hand holding the flyer trembled slightly.

Her gaze softened, and she reached out and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m scared for him too,” she whispered back.

Armin smiled nervously, but the shaking in his hands stopped. For now, that was enough.

The announcer strode into the center of the ring and began to announce the upcoming fight. His booming voice brought everyone to attention as he started to introduce the fighters. Thomas Wagner came first, a blond man around their age. He was lean, but the definition in his muscles as he walked out toward the ring hinted that he could hold his own. He was tall, much taller than she remembered Eren being, and she wondered if maybe Thomas would tower over him when they stood toe to toe in the ring.

Her heart pounded with fear in her ears, diffused only when the announcer called out - “And in this corner, Eren _Jaeger!”_ (Because God, that was a fighter’s name if she’d ever heard one, and the announcer knew it.) She and Armin looked up and saw their friend walking down the ramp towards the ring. She would swear later that the sight of him made her hold her breath.

It hadn’t been _that_ long since she last saw him, but he seemed so… different. The man who strode up towards the cage didn’t seem all that familiar. Of course, that _face_ , those brilliant green eyes, she would know those anywhere. His brown hair was the same, too, even if it was long enough now to be tied back in a messy bun away from his face. But his brow was knitted in a nearly contemptuous ferocity that she didn’t recognize. He seemed taller, too, his aura larger, like a fire that threatened to burn down everything in its path.

She couldn’t stop staring.

The bell rang to signal the start of the fight, and she watched anxiously for each minute movement as the two circled each other, sizing each other up. She knew that look on Eren’s face; he had worn the same one countless times when they’d sparred in judo. That meant he was looking for an opening, a weak spot, a perfect opportunity to strike.

He must have found it, because he swung - fast, faster than she remembered him being - twice to Thomas’ side. The other man had blocked one blow, but not the other, which sent him teetering, slightly off-balance. They circled each other some more, trading blows as they continued to look for chinks in each other’s armor.

Thomas landed a kick to Eren’s midsection, sending their friend doubling back towards the cage wall. Mikasa bit her lip, trying her best not to call out because she couldn’t, she wasn’t even supposed to be here. She dug her nails into her palms and stifled the words in her mouth. She could swear her heart was beating louder than the crowd was cheering.

Before Eren could recover, Thomas lunged towards him, grappling with his arms around their friend’s shoulders. Each was pushing the other, trying to gain purchase. Eren’s back was to the cage, but in a burst of strength, he took one step, and then another, and soon he was no longer at a disadvantage. Still locked together like that, it was nearly impossible to notice Eren’s leg hooking around Thomas’ knee until it was too late. The taller man was swept off his feet and pinned to the ground.

“Hah,” Mikasa said, only just then realizing that she had been holding her breath. That move was one they had learned together, one they had taken turns practicing on each other until they were black and blue all over from being thrown into the mat. Seeing him execute it flawlessly now gave her some pride that she had no business feeling.

Eren didn’t waste the advantage the technique had given him, letting the punches rain down on his opponent. The blond held his arms over his face, trying to shield his head from the battery he was receiving. The referee hovered over them, sensing, perhaps, that the end of the match was near.

It took one well-aimed punch connecting with Thomas’ jaw that did it, knocking the other man out. The referee called the knockout, gesturing Eren away as he checked on his opponent. Eren stood, then, in the center of the ring, all the spotlights rightly on him as the announcer called out his name once more. As his arm was raised when he was announced as winner, Mikasa thought for a moment that their eyes met across the crowd and that maybe he smiled a little, but she couldn’t be quite sure.

-o-

Armin had a confession to make.

Not out loud, no; until it all blew over, he knew he couldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. He loved his friends, he did. They had been there for him for more than ten years now, had gotten him out of scrapes he couldn’t possibly have survived alone. But if they knew what he was really planning, none of it would work out the way he wanted, and he couldn’t have that. Not when it was already this far in motion.

No, _them_ he could tell when it was all said and done.

His confession was this: he was sick and tired of playing the middleman in this weird game of telephone his best friends had been playing for a good part of the past year, and he was going to end it right now.

Last year, Eren and Mikasa fought for the first time. There had always been bickering, sure, especially because Eren used to get into trouble without even trying, and Mikasa _constantly_ had to bail him out, much to his chagrin. But last year, something had changed. When Eren pushed, Mikasa didn’t push back. And, like the two extremely proud blockheads they were, neither wanted to be the first to apologize.

Instead, Mikasa had been studiously pretending Eren didn’t exist all throughout their first year of college. She would freeze at the slightest mention of him, so Armin decided not to talk about him at all, like some unspoken game of Taboo where the emotional stakes were much too high. And yet, she would be the first to remind him that it was Eren’s birthday and that they should send him something, the first to motion to a baking supplies set in the store and say offhand that Mrs. Jaeger would love it, the first to say hello to the new professor at school who just so happened to be Eren’s half-brother. She said she wanted to forget all about him, but his memory still hung around her like a ghost, haunting and ever-present.

On his part, Eren, being Eren, attempted to play it cool. They would catch up every now and then, talking about this new training regimen Levi was putting him through, or about how Armin was now his brother’s star pupil. And then, with about as much subtlety as a brick thrown through a window, he would ask, without fail: “And how’s, uh, how’s Mikasa doing?”

It drove him crazy. He had thought at the onset that the two of them would take a month or two too cool off and then be best of friends again, as they always were. But no, it stretched to three months, then to six, and then to nine, and he was very nearly at the end of his rope.

He put on his best, proudest smile as he knocked on the locker room door, the one for fighters in the back corridor of the arena. After the first fight, Armin had asked Mikasa if she wanted to go say hello, and, as he expected, she told him she’d wait for him outside. That was all right. It was good enough that she agreed to go, even if he knew that the prospect of meeting Eren again terrified her.

It was Levi, Eren’s coach, who opened the door. The man’s face was impassive as he said, “So, you made it. Does that mean that gloomy brat is here too?”

Armin smiled at his less-than-affectionate nickname for his second cousin. “Yeah, Mikasa said she’d wait for me outside,” he answered, “Did you want to go see her?” After all, at one point, she had been Levi’s favorite student.

Levi smirked. “And ruin your little surprise?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. (Armin fought the urge to laugh at the fact that Levi had caught on so quickly.) He opened the locker room door wider to reveal his protege just finished getting changed. “Oi, Eren. Your friend’s here. I’m going to go back to the hotel. Don’t stay out too late.” 

Eren looked up from his newly tied shoelace and grinned. “Hey Armin, I thought I saw you in the stands. Glad you could make it,” he said, walking up to him and giving him a strong clap on the shoulder. “How was it? I did pretty good, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah, you were great!” he said. “Come on, let’s go celebrate your win. There’s a restaurant not too far from here that makes the best tacos.”

“Sure, tacos sound amazing,” Eren answered as he followed him towards the doorway. He slung his gym bag over his shoulder and opened the door wider. “Oh, uh…” he started, looking around as though he was looking for someone. “Did you come alone? I could have sworn…”

Armin bit his lip to keep from laughing at how terribly _obvious_ his friend was being. “Could have sworn what?” he asked innocently.

His friend looked at him, puzzled. “No, nothing, I uh…” he put a hand on the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his when he was flustered. For a moment Armin wondered if he was going to say it, but it seemed like at the last second he balked and decided against it. “So, tacos?” he asked, deftly changing the subject.

Typical.

He bit back another amused smile. “Yeah, come on.” They walked out of the arena to the sound of cheers where the fights were still going on.

-o-

Not for the first time since he left her alone in the arena lobby, Mikasa was halfway into typing a text to Armin that she was going to head back to the dorms and that she’d see him tomorrow. Gritting her teeth, she held the delete button until her text disappeared. Why was she doing this? She stuffed her phone into her purse, refusing to look at it, as if the temptation to run away would disappear if she couldn’t send Armin some halfhearted excuse to bail on him.

She let out a deep breath, trying to calm herself. _It’s okay,_ she reassured herself, _It will be fine._ She could say hello, congratulate him on his win, and _then_ she could leave. She could manage that much, couldn’t she? She looked down at her palms, at the half-moon impressions her nails made there while she was watching the fight. Her gaze softened a little in some self-pity. After all this time, she was still wracked with worry for him and she couldn’t help it.

But she _had to._ That was what had driven him away in the first place.

“Mikasa, over here!” Armin’s voice made her look up, and standing not too far away were both him and Eren, who had stopped in his tracks at the sight of her. She hesitated, unsure. Maybe he didn’t see her earlier after all, because he didn’t look like he was expecting to be in front of her now. Armin walked up to her, with Eren trailing a little bit behind. “We were going to get tacos. Are you coming with us?”

“Uh…” she started, wondering if she could still wriggle out of this and back into her plan to go home to Sasha and maybe not see another living being for the next twenty-four hours. Her gray eyes flicked up to meet Eren’s for the shortest moment, trying to look for a hint as to what the right answer to that question was, but his were unreadable. Looking back at Armin, she began to say, “I should really… I should really get back, but this was…”

“... You should join us,” Eren blurted out suddenly.

Her brow rose in surprise as she looked over at him again, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore, if he had been at all. His eyes were fixed on the floor, and she wasn’t sure if she was just imagining the tinge of red around his ears. Not coming up with any answers, she looked instead at Armin, who was grinning hopefully. “Yeah, Mikasa, you should. Not every day Eren’s in town, after all.”

She tucked a few stray strands of dark hair behind her ear, hesitating just a little more still. “All right,” she said finally, “I _did_ tell Sasha I’d bring her some food.”

Armin was beaming. “I’ll go call us a cab,” he said, promptly refusing to hear any objections as he walked off, leaving the two of them alone.

For the second time that day, Mikasa thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. She should have known this would happen, should have called it the moment that Armin had invited her. Peeking over at Eren, he seemed to be fidgeting almost as much as she was, and she was at the very least thankful that she wasn’t the only one who thought this was painfully awkward. At last, Eren finally managed to say, “… Hi.”

“... Hi,” she said back, smiling sheepishly.

Eren gestured to Armin’s retreating figure. “Do you think he planned all of this?” he asked.

“Oh, definitely,” she deadpanned, “I wasn’t sure when he invited me, but I am now.”

“Who knew Armin had such a manipulative streak, huh?”

“I don’t remember raising him like that.”

That got a chuckle out of him, and the grin that it left behind made her smile, too. That was the same smile she had known for more than ten years now, and she had been starting to wonder if she was ever going to see it again. There was a familiar ache in her chest that she didn’t have a name for, but that it was there at all was comforting somehow.

Everything was, all at once, painfully similar and heart-wrenchingly different. This was the same Eren that she had known all her life, but at the same time, something had changed about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it, didn’t know just _why_ standing next to him made her feel uneasy. Something about this new Eren felt volatile, unpredictable… even _exciting,_ somehow, but also strange and new.

She wasn’t sure if she liked that.

For as long as she had known him, Eren had been her best friend, her confidante, basically family. The thought that he had somehow changed without her noticing disturbed and almost frightened her. Mikasa was a creature of habit; she clung fiercely to things she loved, and the realization that one of those things was so… drastically _altered_ unnerved and unsettled her.

But that was to be expected, wasn’t it? The way they were standing here laughing about Armin, as though their last _real_ conversation hadn’t even happened… it was all an illusion. A dream. The truth of his feelings he had already made clear back then, and she couldn’t let herself forget any of that. If he wanted to make peace, that was fine. But she could not and should not allow herself to hope for anything more.

Just then, Armin reappeared to let them know the cab was coming, and for all his attempts to pretend he hadn’t orchestrated all of this, he still looked pleased with himself. She cast a glance at Eren, who smiled at her conspiratorially. _All right,_ she thought, feeling her heart cave in slightly. They would let Armin have this one.

And maybe she could fool herself for just a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is an MMA AU partly inspired by the Korean drama Fight For My Way (though the similarities are probably barely there tbh). I know Dense!Eren is great and something we all love and I was attempting to go for that when I first wrote it, but somehow it turned into Eren-who-suspects-what-he-feels and Dense!Mikasa, so I decided to just roll with it I guess lol. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated, because I haven't touched fanfic in 8 years now so I am super rusty hah.


	2. Parallel Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren attempts to apologize for their fight, and Mikasa attempts to forgive him, but old memories and new feelings muddle the issue.

She could attribute many things to that night nearly a year ago: why she hated the distinct scent of disinfectant in hospital corridors; why she ran too hard and put too much pressure on her bad knee, ensuring she could never compete again; why she and Eren had fought for the first and last time in their decade-long friendship.

Her injury had been acting up all day, a cloud of ill portent on the day of Eren’s first amateur fight. Levi had advised against it. He had been training Eren for MMA for only a few months by then, and though his background in judo meant he had a good command of ground techniques and grappling, the rest of his skill set was rough and unpolished. Eren being Eren, though, he insisted on having his way, even if the rest of them tried to talk him out of it. They had known him for long enough to know that once he made up his mind, there was no convincing him otherwise.

She hoped against hope that he would make it out all right, that somehow he would win. If it was a battle of grit and determination, she had no doubt that he would. No one’s heart burned as wildly as Eren’s. If the sheer force of _wanting it_ was enough, there would be no contest. But the match ended quickly, too quickly, and the swing of fists and the bloom of an open wound on Eren’s brow knocked the wind right out of her. The bell was rung and before she knew it, he was being taken out on a stretcher towards an ambulance.

Levi took one look at her, saw the stricken expression on her face, and let her ride with Eren in the ambulance. What followed was an hour of anxious waiting in an emergency room, and more tears than she could count. Armin didn’t let go of her hand for a moment.

When Eren finally came to, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Eren, please…” she remembered pleading. In hindsight, she knew it was a foolish request. But she was wracked with guilt and sobbing, and she didn’t know how else to ask. “Can’t you please _stop fighting?”_

“How could you even ask me that?” he asked, his brow knitted with resentment. “You know how much I want this.”

“I know, but…” _But I don’t want to see you hurt,_ she wanted to say, but the words died in her throat as she withered under his gaze.

“God, Mikasa, you’re always like this,” he seethed, every word spiteful and menacing. She had seen him like this before, of course. Eren had always held rage inside him, even since he was a kid. But this was the first time that she had seen it directed at her, and it scared her. “I’m not your kid or your little brother, okay? You have got to stop hovering around me all the time!”

Armin stepped in between them. “Eren, that’s enough,” he said sternly.

“... I just want to protect you,” she whispered in response.

“Cut that out. Who asked you to protect me?” he answered, the edge still in his voice. “Shit, Mikasa. Ever since we were kids…”

Armin, probably sensing that it was time to go, tugged on her arm to try and get her to leave. But she was frozen in her seat, both daring him to continue and dreading how he was going to finish that sentence.

“... I’ve always hated that about you.”

She wasn’t sure how she managed to make it out of the hospital room without bursting into tears. Armin was ready to swing at him too, but she had gotten up, pulled on his hand, and whispered that they should let Eren rest. In the heavy silence, all she could hear was the slow beat of her heart and his words playing themselves over and over in time.

_I’ve always hated that about you._

The moment she was outside the room, she felt a strange sense of panic overtake her, the feeling that she needed to leave. She needed to run as far away from here as she could, as far as her legs would take her. So she ran. She paid no heed to Armin calling her name, just let herself run down the hospital hallways, heady with the smell of disinfectant, until she was out. Until she was free. As if the more distance she put in between herself and the hospital, the less likely it was that the memory of his words would overtake her.

Armin found her in a park not far from the hospital, her knee having buckled from the sudden pressure. He said nothing, just put his arm around her and took her home.

-o-

Four hours later, after what were arguably the best tacos they’d ever had, they were back at Eren’s hotel room, quite a bit more than halfway through their stash of beer (because surprise, surprise, Eren had a fake ID that he suggested they use). Armin was surprisingly talkative when he was tipsy, and had started to wax poetic about some Latin maxims he had learned in his criminal law class when he fell asleep with his upper body draped over Eren’s coffee table.

“Is he…?” Mikasa asked, poking their blond friend on the cheek. He snored softly in response.

Eren nodded solemnly. “Out like a light.”

“He’s going to have a stiff neck in the morning,” she observed. Tilting her head towards the couch, she asked, “Should we move him?”

“Yeah, you grab him by the legs, I’ll get his shoulders,” he suggested. Gently, they laid Armin on the couch, and Eren crossed the room to rummage the closet for a spare blanket. He tossed it over to her, and she tucked Armin in. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, his face a little flushed from the alcohol.

Eren came back, tilting his head as he watched his sleeping friend. “You know, he’s kinda cute like this, when he isn’t plotting behind our backs,” he mused.

Mikasa giggled, in no small part because of the beer. “I guess he’s sleeping over, then.”

He looked at her, then. “What about you?”

She glanced up at him, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again and hoping that he would read that as the effects of the beer than anything else. “I uh…” she started, feeling the embarrassment sober her a little, “I should probably get back home. The school isn’t too far from here, I could walk.” She picked up the paper bag of takeaway tacos she had bought for Sasha and made herself ready to leave.

“I’ll walk you,” he offered all too quickly. When she looked up at him with surprise, he added, “It’ll help me wind down. I don’t think I can sleep just yet.”

The look on her face was skeptical. “Eren…” she started, the recollection of their last big fight still fresh on her mind, as it always was, as it probably always will be. “… You don’t have to do this.” A thousand possible reasons for his offer crossed her mind, though most of them converged at what she felt was the most likely of them: he felt guilty for how they left off last year and wanted to make it up to her somehow. All of today, he had been almost _uncharacteristically nice:_ he checked up on her constantly whenever she fell silent, and included her in the conversation when she drifted off into her own mind yet again. As though nothing had happened, as though everything was conveniently swept under the rug.

She felt nearly ashamed by how nice he was being to her.

He tilted his head as he seemed to consider this. “Yeah, I know,” he said simply, “But I want to.”

The look on his face told her that he would brook no more debate, so she followed him out of the room and into the elevator. Their ride down was silent, tense with words unsaid. The mindless elevator music looped as Mikasa’s thoughts continued to race, the haze offered by their little binge clearing now and giving way to overthinking.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about all of this. On the one hand, she was happy to be standing here with him again, when she thought for so many months that their friendship was over and done with. On the other hand, she couldn’t help carrying the memory of their fight in the back of her mind, couldn’t help thinking that in that moment of heightened emotions he had voiced how he truly felt about her.

They walked out into the cool night air, and Mikasa shuddered involuntarily. It was April, towards the middle of spring, far enough away from the bite of winter that she barely needed more than a cardigan to keep her warm. Still, somehow, she could feel the cold on her skin, in between her fingers, around her neck.

Eren seemed to notice, because soon, he was taking off his hoodie and wrapping it around her shoulders before she even realized what he was doing. She looked up at him, almost certain that she was turning red yet again - something that she couldn’t seem to prevent that day - and said, quietly, “You’ll get cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he answered with a shrug, “You know me. I’m like a furnace.” It wasn’t a lie. For some reason, ever since they were young, Eren was always so _warm,_ both physically and otherwise.

“Thanks, then,” she said, pulling his hoodie closer as they kept walking. It was comforting and warm around her shoulders, like it was meant to be there. She cast a sidelong glance at him, watched him look everywhere but at her, and stuffing his hands inside his pockets to warm them with the loss of his hoodie. “But, Eren…” she started, wondering if she should just say what was on her mind for once. “… You don’t have to be this nice to me. It’s okay. What happened last year… you were right. I shouldn’t have asked you to stop fighting.”

He looked back at her, puzzled. “Is… is that what you think this is about?” he asked, stunned.

She returned his gaze, her expression equally confused. “Isn’t it?”

“Hah,” The night was even colder than she thought, because she could see his breath as he heaved a sigh of what sounded like frustration. “No, Mikasa, I…” he put his hands on her shoulders, and she felt a little lightheaded from their sudden proximity. He seemed to think about what to say, then, and settled on, “I’m sorry.”

She blinked, surprised. “Huh?”

He looked embarrassed as he stepped away from her suddenly, the gap he left between them a presence in itself. “I’m sorry, Mikasa,” he said, his hand at the side of his neck as he tried to think of what to tell her. “That day, I… I was so angry. I had lost in the worst way, and I was ashamed because I lost in front of you, and Armin, and Levi, after all of you told me I should give it more time. And you were there in the hospital, and all I could feel was shame,” he heaved a sigh. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. But you’re just so _good_ at everything you do, and I was just one gigantic failure. You were there for me, and I didn’t deserve you.”

“... Huh?” she whispered, still dumbfounded.

Eren laughed at that. “Come on, I’m apologizing here.”

She shook her head. “I know, I’m sorry,” she laughed, nervously, unsure just what she was feeling. But this was good, right? She had been worried for nothing. Nothing had to change. They could go back to the way they were. The thought of such comfortable familiarity seemed too good to be true, but how she wanted it. She wanted it so badly that she nearly teared up at the thought. “I want my best friend back, too.”

There was an inexplicable look on his face for a moment, a little sad, a little crestfallen, but there was a smile there, at least. That was the last thing she noticed before he enveloped her in one of those hugs she missed so much. There was that familiar warmth again, both inside and out. Around them, everything seemed to fall away: the passersby, the cars rushing past, the relentless coldness of the evening. And, as natural as anything, she wrapped her arms around him too, his back seeming so much broader now than she remembered it being.

When they finally broke apart, Eren’s shit-eating grin was back. “All right, that’s enough for now, then,” he said, almost teasingly. “I’ll take it.”

And, for the third time that night, she answered, “Huh?”

Walking the rest of the way to the school was easy. They walked next to each other with a comfortable silence between them, as though a weight had been lifted from the both of them. Something else had replaced it, now, something that Mikasa didn’t know the name of, but the fact that they were talking was good enough for her, good enough for now. She could go a bit longer without thinking about the things that had changed, if only to celebrate the things that had not for a while more.

“Congratulations, by the way,” she told him, her hands burrowed deep into the pockets of his hoodie, “I don’t think I told you. But you did really well in your fight.” She snuck a peek at him and saw him smirking when she added, “Your _kari ashi_ looked really good.”

He raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to high school, you mean?” he asked, amused.

She shrugged. “Well, you never could pin me with it back then, so there was definitely some improvement,” she deadpanned, just as amused.

“Is that a challenge?” he countered. “I bet I could pin you with it right now.”

Mikasa smiled at that. “Oh yeah?” she asked. In all their years of sparring, since they were kids until their last session sometime last year, he hadn’t beaten her once. She had always been strong. Fighting had been the one thing she knew she was good at, the one thing that she could count on to excel in. Right now, though, she didn’t even have that. “I’m retired, so I guess we’ll never know.”

He tilted his head and looked at her curiously. “Retired? How come? Levi used to say you could make it to the Olympics if you wanted, and he wasn’t wrong. You’re the best fighter I’ve seen in ages.”

Her smile was small and tight-lipped. Of course he didn’t know that that night that he had trampled all over her heart was the same night she ran so hard she had torn her ACL a second time. That the doctor advised her to refrain from activity that would put pressure on it until she fully recovered. That she had turned her back on the possibility that she could ever compete again. She had asked Levi not to tell him, and Armin and the others knew well enough not to.

She didn’t want to add to his sins, because even though it wasn’t his fault, he would feel guilty for it anyway.

“Did he say that?” she asked him, deflecting the question masterfully. “It isn’t like him to give out compliments for free. Are you sure he didn’t call me a gloomy brat in the same sentence?”

Eren wasn’t having it. “Mikasa.”

“Eren.”

They looked at each other for a while, until finally, it was Eren who gave in. “All right, I won’t push if you don’t want to tell me,” he said softly. “I… was just wondering. I mean, judo was your whole life back then, wasn’t it? It was what you loved most. I just wanted to know why you stopped so suddenly.”

_Was_ it what she loved most, though? 

They had gotten into it together, when they were very young. Mikasa had asked to sign up at her cousin’s gym just because she looked up to him, Levi Ackerman, the Olympic athlete. And Eren was there too, a little fighter in his own right, his parents thinking that perhaps physical activity would burn off the excess energy he always seemed to have.

As the youngest kids in their judo class, they had been each other’s sparring partners, each other’s practice dummies, and each other’s companion for the ride home when class was over. She enjoyed it, for sure. Every day they had classes, it was the one thing she looked forward to the most. But she wondered if her favorite part about it had been _him,_ and not judo itself.

She was good at it, that much had been easy to tell since her first few sessions. A _natural,_ she was called, a _prodigy._ And she loved it _because_ she was good at it. It became her defining trait. She hardly knew where she started and judo began; it had become that inextricable from her.

Now that it was gone, she didn’t feel sad, not really. It was more that she felt lost. It had never been her dream, unlike Levi, whom she watched with pride and admiration as he brought home gold medals from the Olympics. It had never been a burning need, unlike Eren, who fought like his life depended on it. Fighting was a part of her, sure, but when it was torn away, she felt a strange sense of relief on one hand and a sense of aimlessness on the other. Without it, who was she?

But without it, she was free to find out.

“I don’t really mind,” she replied finally. “Having a little peace is nice.”

Eren looked at her, his face yet again unreadable. That seemed to be a common thread today. The eyes she once knew so well were mysteries to her now. “You’ve changed,” he commented.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Six Feet,” she answered wryly. “Did you have a growth spurt without me?”

He laughed. “Okay, one, yes, and two, that’s not what I meant.” He jammed his hands back in his pockets as they continued their walk. It was getting colder now, if that was possible, but for some reason she felt perfectly warm. Maybe the hoodie had taken a little bit of its owner’s warmth and kept her safe from the chill. “You used to be a beast. All the bullies at school were terrified of you, with good reason. You’re… a lot softer now,” he observed.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asked.

“Neither,” he admitted, with a shrug, “I liked you then and I like you now. It’s just… different.”

And in one sentence, Eren had summed up how she had felt about him, too. She was apprehensive that he had changed at all, but the change wasn’t… unwelcome. He was fiercer, angrier, more passionate, it was true, but there was also a sympathetic tenderness about him that wasn’t there before. But it was the same Eren, only different. And she didn't have to be scared of the changes anymore.

She smiled up at him, and he took a step back, as though he was reconsidering what he just said. “What are you smiling for?” he said, grimacing.

“Nothing,” she answered simply. “I like the new you too.”

He grimaced even more deeply, but she couldn’t tell if the red tingeing his ears was out of embarrassment or the cold. They were silent for a while, then, as they closed the distance to the school. She felt her slowing her pace as she willed time to go just the tiniest bit slower, just so this moment would never have to end. Him in his t-shirt and jeans, hands jammed into his pockets, nose and ears pink with the cold and whatever was left over of the alcohol they had drunk. Her in his hoodie, over the clothes her roommate had chosen for her, fully sober and completely mystified by all that the day had brought.

Was it possible to feel nostalgia for a moment you were still in?

They finally arrived at the university gate. She could spot the window to her dorm room from where they stood, saw the flicker of a shadow in the light there, telling her Sasha was still up. “Thanks for walking me,” she told Eren then, “I better get going. My roommate probably waited up for the tacos.”

“As she should,” he replied, “They were damn good tacos.”

“Oh, I should give this back,” she started, shrugging the hoodie off of her shoulders, but he stopped her.

“No, it’s okay. You can give it back next time we see each other,” he said, “You _are_ coming home for the summer, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but…” she asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, positive,” he replied. Then, he added, in a low voice, “Night, Mikasa,” as if to say goodbye, but he didn’t move an inch from where he was standing.

“... Night,” she answered, slowly, something in her thrumming with anticipation. But why? She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she, too, stood rooted to the spot. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him. Had his face ever been this close to hers before? She couldn’t quite remember. Her eyes flicked from his brilliant eyes, to his flushed cheeks, to rest on his lips for half a beat longer than she intended… and the realization made her blush deeply under the streetlights.

Caught up in her thoughts, she nearly didn’t notice when he took a small, tentative step towards her, nearly bridging the gap between them. But she _did_ notice when his hand rose from his side, slowly, hesitantly. She thought for a moment he was going to touch her face, cup her cheek, and tease her because she was bright red.

He didn’t.

Instead, he smirked - just a little - and tucked a few stray strands of dark hair behind her ear. “Your hair’s gotten long again,” he said, his smile softening a little, “You should cut it.”

She blinked, confused, but felt her cheeks warming again in embarrassment. “Yeah, I just didn’t get the chance,” she mumbled. Clearing her throat, she turned away from him and said, “Anyway, I’ll see you when summer break rolls around. Have a safe trip home.”

“Yeah,” he answered, something heavy in his tone as he waved goodbye. “See you then.”

Mikasa walked up to her dorm room, lightheaded and unsure what had just happened. She paused in front of her door, hand to her chest, wondering if the pounding of her heart was really a remnant of the moment that had just passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I played over and over again while writing this chapter was Taylor Swift's Cornelia Street, for some reason. Thanks sm to everyone who left comments and kudos, it means a lot to me to get your feedback!


	3. Good Things Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that year apart, Eren Jaeger fell in love all alone.

Eren Jaeger had never considered himself sentimental.

But somehow, that slow walk back to the hotel, in the cold and the quiet, made him miss the moment that had only just passed. He let out small puffs of air, reveling in the simple magic that made them visible, because for the first time in a long time, things were _beautiful_ again. For months and months, his world had seemed so much smaller, darker, grittier, each moment of it laced with a painful absence that he couldn’t articulate. But tonight, the cityscape seemed to twinkle a bit more in a way he hadn’t quite appreciated when he first arrived.

What had changed?

He pulled his hand out of his pocket, slowing his pace to look down at his palm. Just a moment ago, he had very nearly touched her. He almost couldn’t help himself. Even under the streetlights, her face was flushed, though whether it was because of the beer they’d been drinking or the complicated _nearness_ between them, he wasn’t sure. To be honest, he knew which of those he _hoped_ it would be, but after all that had happened between them, he scarcely dared to hope anymore.

Nine months ago, on the floor of that cage, something broke in him. He had been so proud, so optimistic. He had practically brute forced his way into a match he had no business fighting, just because he always had something to prove. In a battle of wills there was no match for him; if _wanting something_ was enough, he would win every time. Armin, Mikasa, and Levi had advised against it: it was too soon, you could delay your debut match a bit more, just work on your punches and kicks for this much longer. He heard none of it.

That was just the way he was, ever since he was a child. He was always in competition with someone: with his brother, Zeke, from his father’s first marriage; with Jean, in high school, who butted heads with him over everything; with Reiner, his rival at judo competitions; and, consistently, with Mikasa, who seemed to excel at everything her whole life without even trying. He wanted to show them, too, that he was worth something.

Lying on the floor of the cage, he only vaguely heard the bell ring and the announcer call out that his opponent had won.

And all he could feel was shame.

Later, in the hospital, when Mikasa took his hand in hers and begged him not to fight anymore, all he could feel was anger and shame. Anger he didn’t know where to aim, shame he didn’t know how to quell. They bubbled up inside him like poison, and the words that came out of his mouth were poison, too. He hated them the moment they left his lips, hated the stunned silence in the faces of his friends as they made their excuses and left the room - but more than anything else, he hated _himself_ for causing all of it in the first place.

When he finally recovered from that fight, he threw himself into his training, determined to never lose another match again if he could help it. He wore himself ragged, and Levi often had to forcibly kick him out of the gym to get him to stop. Fighting consumed his every moment, because it was the only way he could work off the rage that didn’t seem to subside. Rage at his own weakness, at his own ineptitude, at his own wounded pride that, try as he might, refused to bring himself to apologize.

Pride that overtook him even as he bid Mikasa goodbye, halfheartedly, on the sidewalk in front of their houses.

“You know,” Levi said one day, casually, after training, “That gloomy brat…” he started, as though he was unsure how to broach the topic. The older man’s eyes seemed to study him for a moment before he continued, “She doesn’t mean to hold you back. She just can’t help herself.”

Eren’s brow furrowed at that. “What are you even talking about?” he asked, bristling, because any thought of her in those days reminded him that he still wasn’t good enough. “She asked me not to fight even though she _knows_ that’s what I want to do. She doesn’t think I can take care of myself. How can you say she doesn’t mean it?”

His coach regarded him with watchful eyes, like he wasn’t sure if he ought to be saying this. Finally, he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was… twenty-six, I think, which means she was probably just seven years old. You know I went pro for a while, but that was the year I retired.”

Eren knew that much. Many elite _judoka_ retired in their late twenties, so he had assumed that his trainer was the same. When he and Mikasa had signed up for his class when they were nine, he had been out of the game for two years.

Levi went on. “That brat, you know, ever since she was a kid, she hasn’t changed a bit. She’s still all devotion. She used to make her parents take her to every match I had,” he explained, the tone in his voice amused. “That last fight, there was… a bad throw. I landed all wrong, took a hit to the spine. I couldn’t even get up. They had to call off the match and rush me to the hospital. Spinal injury.”

He looked up, stunned. He didn’t know _that._ Spinal injuries in their sport were rare, but not unheard of. To look at Levi, you wouldn’t know he had retired over such a serious one.

“Mikasa and her parents took me to the hospital. Kid wouldn’t leave my bedside the whole night. Kept crying her eyes out and telling me I had to be able to walk again because I still had to teach her how to fight,” he laughed at that. “So I turned to look at her and asked, ‘hey, gloomy brat, can’t you see I’m fine?’ She cried even harder because she knew I was lying through my teeth.”

Eren couldn’t help but laugh at that, even if that laugh held a twinge of mild regret. The memory of her shoulders quaking with her sobs, the cracking in her voice as she pleaded with him not to fight anymore, all of it dulled the edge of the rage he felt that night. It had been unfair of her to ask that of him, he still knew that was true; but he also knew that it had come from a place of concern for him, and he couldn’t very well blame her for looking out for him. That was just the way she was, and asking her not to care about him was just as bad as her asking him not to fight in the first place.

They had, both of them, hurt each other that night without meaning to.

Levi, seeing the effect his words had on his student, got up and gave him a clap on the shoulder. “Go easy on each other, all right?”

For the first time in his life since he knew her, she was suddenly… gone. He had thought, for a while, that it would be no big deal, that he could carry on without her, and he did. He worked even harder at the gym until he finally scored his second amateur match. He won, easily, knocking his opponent out like he was a natural, like he hadn’t had to fight tooth and nail for the chance to reenter the ring.

And yet somehow, the victory felt empty.

Was it possible for the world to seem a little bit grayer without someone in it? Those nine months seemed darker, more muted, the color in them leached by her absence. He would see things that reminded him of her, only to remember in the next moment that telling her about it was out of the question now. They may have been best friends once, but now they were no more than strangers with a history.

He vowed to apologize somehow, but Eren had never been good with words. Every attempt seemed too clumsy, too indelicate, too impersonal. Every text message was deleted, unsent, because they never seemed good enough. Every call was dropped, mid-second ring, because he realized he had no idea what to say. He would tell himself he would try again the next day, and then the next, until the weeks stretched into months and he could do nothing but just respond with one-word replies on birthdays and holidays.

He wanted nothing more than to drive over there himself, show up at her doorstep and apologize for the things he said, but then what? Would that change the fact that fighting was what he wanted to do with his life? Would that change the fact that she couldn’t handle seeing him get hurt?

Staying away from her was probably the kindest thing he could do for her now.

So that was what he did. He still asked about her, of course, subtly - or so he thought - inserting her into his FaceTime conversations with Armin, or casually - or so he thought - mentioning her to Levi during their sessions.

(He realized now that he probably wasn’t as slick as he thought he was.)

Just a few days ago, Grisha Jaeger had let slip to his older son that Eren had a fight coming up in the same city where Zeke taught law classes at university. Though he was ten years older than Eren, he was always eager for opportunities to spend time with him, and invited him over a few days early. He went, in the city for the first time, his eyes scanning the roads and buildings as though he might catch a glimpse of the friends who left him behind. He could almost see them, Armin grabbing a latte from this cafe before rushing back to class; Mikasa going for a jog in the darkening afternoon.

He wondered if he would still be with them if he’d chosen differently.

Zeke’s apartment was fairly large, all wooden furnishings and books piled high everywhere you looked. A record player sat in one corner, and Eren counted three different types of coffeemakers in his brother’s kitchen (“one is for espresso, and one is for cold brew, Eren,” Zeke said incredulously). It was a far cry from the apartment he’d moved into back home, which, all things considered, was as bare as they came. It wasn’t so much a home as it was a place to sleep.

The last year had been empty in all sorts of ways, he supposed.

His brother came back to the living room and they sat on the couch together watching a soccer game over a few bottles of beer. They talked about their dad, about how things were, about work.

“Oh yeah, my best friend says you’re his professor in criminal justice class,” Eren told him. That wasn’t all Armin said, if he were honest. Armin loved Zeke’s class, could hardly stop talking about it whenever he called. Eren nearly felt like he had taken the class himself. “His name’s Armin Arlert.”

Zeke hummed in recognition. “Oh, yeah. Brilliant kid, huh?” he remarked.

“Armin? Yeah, he’s a genius,” Eren replied.

“You also friends with that girl he’s always with?” he asked then, “About… hmm, this high, pretty, Asian. Came in with him to say hello at the start of the semester, said they were your friends.”

Eren froze for half a second, having not expected his brother to know about Mikasa at all. “Uh…” he started, awkwardly. “Yeah… we’re friends.” What was he supposed to call her now? He couldn’t very well call them friends anymore; he’d hardly spoken to her at all since their fight. But they had ten years of history that he was reluctant to throw away. They were in some sort of limbo in between friendship and nothing, a gap that he could have easily bridged if he had the humility or strength to do so.

He should have known better than to tell a half-truth to a practicing attorney, because Zeke latched on to this like a vise grip. “Oh?” he asked mischievously, a glint in his eyes. “ _Just_ friends?”

He felt warmth color his ears but hoped Zeke didn’t notice. “… Yeah,” he settled on, finally, before shaking his head and adding, his voice low: “… Or not even that, now.”

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, if the dirge of feeling that came out of him was because his brother had plied him with alcohol or because he had gone for too long not saying a thing about it to anyone, but he told Zeke everything, from that night he lost, to the halfhearted goodbye on their sidewalk, and just about everything since.

Zeke seemed amused. “Well, if you want to know what _I_ think,” he said, taking another sip of his beer, “Isn’t it obvious that she doesn’t want to see you get hurt because she likes you too much?”

Eren scowled. “It’s not like that.”

“It isn’t?” he countered, raising an eyebrow.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, painfully aware that he was probably blushing all over now. Why did this line of questioning make him so unsettled? Mikasa was his one of his oldest friends, and he had never looked at her that way. She had been there since they were kids. She was the little girl who tugged on his sleeve to get his attention, the one who constantly called him out on his bullshit, the one who just _couldn’t leave him alone._ They had always been together, until they weren’t. And for the past few months, he’d felt her absence like a physical pain in his chest, ghostly but present.

“I…” he replied, confused now. “We don’t even talk anymore.”

Zeke seemed gratified by this answer, though why, Eren couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Tell you what,” he said, patting Eren on the knee companionably, “Why don’t you invite your friends to watch your fight? Take the opportunity to patch things up. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t show up. Best case scenario, well…” his older brother grinned impishly. “That depends on you.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Eren blustered, embarrassed that he was thoroughly being Big Brothered.

Zeke didn’t even dignify that with a response, instead gave him a mysterious half-smile and went right back to his beer. Eren sat there, stewing in the irritation only a younger brother could have, thinking back on Zeke’s words. Clearly, he didn’t know what he was talking about.

Or, maybe, he knew better than even Eren did, because that afternoon of his first big amateur fight, when he looked out at the stands and caught her eye, he felt his heart leap in his chest the way it didn’t the first time he had won without her, and the next few times after that.

In that year apart, Eren Jaeger had fallen in love all alone.

And he had come so close to telling her, too, as he walked alongside her all the way back to her dorm. It was on the tip of his tongue all this time, but he couldn’t work up the courage to say it. He almost said it, tasted the confession on his lips, but instead, it was an apology that tumbled out. A long-delayed apology, awkwardly worded, but an apology nonetheless. He felt the weight of his guilt lift from his shoulders, a burden he had been carrying for far too long now.

He looked at her, lit by the hazy street lamps, smiling up at him and telling him she liked the new him. He very nearly said it right there, if he didn’t know that she didn’t mean it that way, didn’t mean it like he did.

He was back at the hotel before he knew it, and though he made sure to come in quietly so as not to wake Armin, the blond heard him anyway. He’d always been a light sleeper, and apparently not even the influence of alcohol could change that. Still pink in the face, he asked, smilingly, the sleep still thick in his voice, “Did you have a nice walk?”

The implication of that question was not lost on Eren, who sat down on the couch next to him. “I did, you schemer. Are you proud of yourself?” he asked with a laugh. “I bet you pretended to be asleep, too.”

“Works every time,” Armin answered with a yawn. “Are you two okay now?”

He thought back to their conversation, to the hug, to the walk back to her room. “We’re… okay,” he answered, somehow still dissatisfied.

“But…?”

Eren cast a wry look at Armin, who was watching him expectantly. “She told me she wanted her best _friend_ back,” he replied pointedly.

Armin groaned. “Oh, Mikasa…”

“How long have you known?” Eren asked, leaning back against the couch.

His best friend pushed himself up off his back, sitting up next to him. “About the two of you and…” he gestured, letting his words trail off. He smiled at that. “I mean, we all kind of _knew,_ since we were younger, even if neither of you did. But I was pretty sure after you fought and then couldn’t stop asking about her every time you called.”

He felt his face go warm again. _“Hey.”_

Armin’s expression softened. “So, what are you going to do now?”

He looked at his friend, not really sure how to answer. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “How _does_ someone get through to the densest human being in existence?” he asked, grinning.

The blond snickered. “You’re one to talk.”

“Then,” he conceded, “How does the second densest human being in existence get through to the first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late because I thought I would add more, but it turns out it's just not meant to be, lol. This chapter title - and the vibe of this chapter too I guess - is from the song "Good Things Fall Apart" by ILLENIUM. Eren... hmm, he's difficult to write if we're going post-timeskip Eren because I feel there's a lot of things he keeps to himself, a lot more restrained than his pre-timeskip self. As always, feedback is highly appreciated and I hope you guys have a good, spoiler-free week, lol.


	4. Warning Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa returns Eren's hoodie and talks about the past with Levi. Eren is faced with an opportunity for his future.

The month flew by, April giving in to May, and the coolness of early spring made way for the comfortable warmth that meant summer was just around the corner. The days were growing longer, and Mikasa found herself counting them until summer break.

She had washed the hoodie and put it away, much to her roommate’s amusement. That night when she came home, Sasha had been in the middle of a “thank God, you’re home, I was starv-” when she launched straight into a _“whose hoodie is that?”_ complete with wide eyes and some rather high-pitched squealing. Mikasa assured her that it was fine, it was just her best friend’s, and that yes, she’d brought her tacos.

If all that was true, though, she shouldn’t have been trembling as she stood outside her cousin’s gym, black hoodie in hand, mustering up the courage to let herself in.

It was silly, of course. This gym was as much hers as it was Eren’s, a space they had shared for a bit over a decade. She could still remember the first time his parents had dropped him off, a wild thing, the brightness in his eyes a fire that seared into her memory so perfectly, so completely, that she still recalled the meeting in minute detail all these years later. There was a dark ring around one eye and multiple bruises visible under his sleeves. His parents looked almost sheepish at the state of their son as they spoke to Levi in hushed tones. And Mikasa stood there, her gaze transfixed on him, but his eyes weren’t on her - they were on the ring in the center of the gym.

She had been going to judo classes for a week - if you could call them classes, anyway. Levi had always taught her separately because she was so much younger and so much smaller than his other students. She always figured it had been as a special favor to her parents - and to her, probably, because he seemed to have some familial affection for her even if he called her a gloomy brat most of the time. To see someone her age in here was something like a special occasion. So she watched the boy curiously, this would-be classmate, wondering about the ferocity in his stare.

He turned to look at her, abruptly, scowling deeply. “What are you looking at?” he asked, with all the stubborn petulance of a nine-year-old boy.

Caught off-guard, she didn’t quite know what to answer. “Um…” she started, then gestured to his face. “What happened to your eye?” she squeaked out.

His scowl softened, maybe at her tone, or maybe at her innocent question. He looked down at his feet, his expression unrepentant. “A couple of big kids were picking on my friend,” he replied, “I couldn’t just leave him alone. But my dad said not to pick fights I knew I couldn’t win.”

Mikasa smiled softly at that. “You sound like a good friend to have.” She reached out and patted him sympathetically on the arm. “You should wear it like a medal,” she said, her grin widening. She was nine years old, too, and she knew that even schoolyard heroics took no small amount of courage.

Like he wasn’t expecting the compliment, the boy flushed in mild embarrassment. Looking away, he mumbled a low, “Thank you,” followed by an, “I’m Eren, what’s your name?”

“Mikasa,” she replied.

“Mikasa,” he repeated, and that was the first time he’d ever said her name, tentatively, like he was testing the sound of it.

That was a long time ago, though, and surely, the gym was now more Eren’s than it was her own. She had quit and gone off to college, her days now more occupied with botany labs and library trips than they were with fighting. It was strange, to her, to stand outside a place you once knew like the back of your hand, and still feel like you weren’t quite sure what was waiting for you on the other side.

The past month, she had had her finals to keep her busy, but in nearly every spare moment she had, she found that scene under the streetlights in front of the gate to her campus replaying over and over in her mind. The reluctant “good night”s, the look in his eyes that she just didn’t recognize, his hand hovering close to her face. She could still feel the touch of his fingers as they swept her hair back behind her ear. They’d always been… _comfortable_ with touching each other, since they were kids; hand-holding and head-butting were practically their way of showing affection. But this was not that. That moment was charged with something different, and it had made her breath catch in her throat.

Maybe that was why it was taking her so long to steel herself and open the door, but somehow she managed. It was early, still, barely eight in the morning, but she had been restless and couldn’t stay away. She gripped the hoodie a little bit tighter as she wandered in. The place was empty, but the lights were on. “Levi, you in here?” she called out, closing the door behind her.

The man himself appeared from the back room, leveling her with his stare. He was wearing a cloth over his hair, another over his nose, and an apron to boot, so she could guess what he had been doing this early in the morning. “Oh, it’s just you,” he said gruffly, “Home for summer break? Come on in, I’m just doing some cleaning.” He tilted his head in a gesture that meant for her to follow him in.

She followed her cousin into the storeroom, where the mats were laid side by side. The room smelled of disinfectant - Levi’s personal blend he’d devised out of God knows what. Despite the smell, she had to smile at that. Some things really never changed, did they? Levi peered up at her and thrust a brush into her hand. “If you’re going to be here, you should help me out. That damn brat is late,” he grumbled before crouching down in front of a mat and getting to work.

She wondered why she felt some measure of relief to know that Eren wasn’t there yet. Maybe it was because even though they had made up - and they had _really_ made up this time, because they were talking almost like normal now - it would be the first time she would see him in person after _that_ night. Unbidden, the memory came to her again, coloring her cheeks with the recollection of it. Hopefully it was dark enough in the storeroom to keep that out of her cousin’s notice.

What didn’t escape his notice, though, was the hoodie she was holding. He raised an eyebrow at it, waving his own cleaning brush at it as he asked, “That his?”

“Y-yeah,” Mikasa stammered, setting it securely on a table behind them before she crouched down next to him. “He loaned it to me a while back, when he took me home after dinner. I was just coming to return it.”

Levi smirked. “Was wondering where it went. He bought that the day before his first win, called it his good luck charm. Hasn’t stopped wearing it since. I was starting to wonder if he even _owned_ any other jackets.” He leaned over the mat, giving a minuscule spot a vigorous brush. “It’s good to know you two made up, though. Maybe now he’ll stop sulking.”

“Sulking?” she repeated, despite herself.

He shrugged, then peered down at the mat she hadn’t even started scrubbing. “Oi, you already quit on me, the least you could do is help me out here.”

“Right, right,” she conceded, getting to cleaning the mat she was leaning over. She was quiet for a while, scrubbing away at a mysterious stain on the bright blue surface. “I’m sorry,” she said then, breaking the silence, “For quitting. I know you were disappointed in me.”

Eren had been right when he told her that Levi had pinned some dreams on her that she had walked away from. But the truth was, her heart wasn’t even in it - a fact that became clear to her after she and Eren had fought. She loved it because she excelled at it, and not the other way around. She didn’t _need_ to do it, didn’t itch to get back in the ring like she needed to breathe.

“Is that what you think?” Levi asked, his voice calm and understanding. “Listen, kid. I wasn’t disappointed in you. There are choices that only you can make, and this is one of them,” he told her, a barely-there smile on his lips. “Far be it for me to tell you what to do with your life. I just wanted to know that you wouldn’t regret your decision.”

He looked away again, his gaze distant, like he was somewhere else entirely. “This passion that me - and your friend now, too - got ourselves into, it isn’t forever. There’s a time limit to it. So there’s always an urgency. We have to do it _now, now, now._ Or else time passes and before you know it, you can’t compete anymore. I just wanted to know that you were sure, because that window is closing for you, too.”

Mikasa nodded slowly. “I know,” she answered. That urgency, she’d seen it too. That fire in Eren’s eyes, the need to make his mark as soon as possible. Athletes were tragic like that, somehow: they burned hotly, brightly, for such a short while. Then that flame died out, slowly but surely, with the passing of time. Or it could be snuffed out, just like that, by a freak accident or injury. Though that passion stayed, their bodies couldn’t always keep up. She remembered Levi’s last fight, the bad fall he took, him lying in bandages on a hospital bed hardly able to move.

 _“Hey, gloomy brat, can’t you see I’m fine?”_ he’d asked her then. But looking at him now, talking about his career with a sad, faraway look in his eyes, made her wonder if he had ever been fine since that day.

“How’s your knee?” he asked.

She looked at him, not quite sure how to answer. “Not great,” she replied, deciding to go with honesty. “I’ve been trying not to put any pressure on it but it’s not like it used to be.”

They worked in silence for a while, and before long, they’d finished disinfecting all the mats and set them aside, ready for use when the morning class came in. Levi walked out the door ahead of her, taking off his apron and mask. He looked up, caught sight of whoever had just entered the room, and said, “You finally made it. Got caught up on your beauty sleep?” he tilted his head in Mikasa’s direction. “You have a visitor.”

She peeked out the doorway of the storeroom and saw Eren, his brown hair long and coming around his shoulders, like he had just rolled out of bed and hadn’t even bothered to tie it up yet. His green eyes seemed a bit sleepy, but snapped to attention when he caught sight of her. She gave him a little wave. “Hey,” she greeted shyly. “I came to return this.” She lifted the hoodie up for him to see, like she needed a reason to be there that wasn’t just to see him.

But let’s face it, that was one of the reasons.

He closed the distance between them and took the hoodie from her, smiling. “Thanks,” he said, “When did you get home? Armin didn’t tell me you guys were here.”

“Just last night,” she answered, “We arrived late, so we were pretty tired. Armin probably went straight to bed.” She felt nearly relieved at how normal things were. Maybe she had nothing to worry about, after all. Perhaps whatever she had felt that night had been unfounded, brought on by the beer and the cool spring air.

Eren’s lips twisted into a little smirk. “And you came to see me first thing?”

Mikasa bit down on her lip, trying to quash the embarrassed smile from showing up there. She struggled to keep a passive face as she looked up at him, refusing to be teased. “I can come back if you mean to kick me out,” she told him, raising an eyebrow and folding her hands over her chest.

Eren’s smile widened into a cheeky grin. “Kick you out? Never. This place is as much yours as it is mine,” he replied, that same amused tone in his voice. He tilted his head in the direction of the ring. “Want to spar while you’re here? For old times’ sake.”

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if her knee could handle it, but there was a twinkle in his eye that she just wouldn’t dream of turning down. “All right, then, but fair warning, I’m a bit out of practice,” she told him. He walked up to the ring first, slipped between the ropes easily, and held a hand out for her to hoist herself up. His hand was warm when she took it, briefly, but she let it go as soon as she got up onto the ring.

“If you’re telling me that so I’d go easy on you… fat chance of that happening,” he warned her, getting into his stance. She took hers, too, never one to back down from a challenge. They circled around each other, slowly, that familiar dance still like second nature to her even if she hadn’t done it in a year now.

They reached out, tentatively, testing to see who would make the first move. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her, as they had his opponent back a month ago at his fight. Had he had this laser focus all the time? She felt nearly intimidated by his stare. If she hadn’t seen it so many times before, she might have taken a step back. But she knew him, knew he wouldn’t deliberately hurt her. So she took a step forward, instead. He reached for her shoulders and she reached for his too, instinctively.

She realized too late that they were not dressed for this in the least, both of them wearing t-shirts, him in sweatpants and her in jeans, so that when she grabbed him by the shoulders she got fistfuls of his shirt instead. His hands were on her upper arms, just where her sleeve met skin, and the shock of the contact nearly made her step away. But no, she’d risen to the challenge and there was no quitting now. She took a step forward and then another, pushing him back, but it was an effort now. It had been so easy when they were younger, but he’d grown so much in the past year, probably bulking up for his matches, too, that it took all her strength to get him to move an inch.

Mikasa saw, though, that he was making good on his promise: he wasn’t going easy on her, not even a little. As much as she was pushing, he was pushing back, too, having moved his hands higher up to her shoulders now. His hands moving up her arms sent a thrill down her spine that she pushed down with vehemence. _Now is not the time,_ she scolded herself. She wondered for a moment if she could pull off the shoulder throw considering the height difference now, or if she could do it while keeping the pressure off her knee… a million thoughts raced through her mind at once as she tried to analyze how best to approach this.

Her eyes flicked up to his face for a microsecond, and it was, in hindsight, a bad idea. It had been easy to touch him when she wasn’t looking at him, her hands on his shoulders, shifting to under his arm to go for the throw, but it was suddenly very nearly impossible, because he was looking right back at her, his gaze intense.

She felt herself get flustered, then, at the worst possible time, because she just _knew_ there was no way he wouldn’t notice.

Even if the timing was off, she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye another moment, and instead turned on her heel to try and pull off the throw anyway. She grabbed him from under his arm, trying to heft his weight into the ground. Eren seemed to see it coming, resisting the move with ease. Before she could regain her momentum, he hooked his leg behind hers and pushed her back against the mat.

They both lay there, Eren on top of her, both of them panting from the exertion. He grinned at her triumphantly. “See,” he taunted, his voice low, “Told you I could pin you now.” She could feel his breath on her face, warm. He was _that_ close.

She could feel her heart pounding heavily in her chest. And the worst part of it was, she was almost certain _he_ could feel it too.

What was this feeling, she wondered, as she lay there transfixed? Her breath came slow and measured, her heartbeats fast and ragged, the difference in their pace leaving her lightheaded. Eren seemed to notice their proximity too, finally, because his cheeks reddened, the color reaching his ears like it did when he was embarrassed. But neither of them moved for what felt like the longest time.

At long last, Mikasa felt herself prop herself up on her elbows, slowly, and Eren drew himself up, too, but not away from her. If anything, he seemed even closer than before, his eyes half-lidded now as they looked into hers. She found herself closing her eyes too, on instinct more than anything, her face burning with the warmth of expectation. There was a magnetism that seemed to draw them closer, without need for warning or words between them.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was screaming, _this is not what friends do_. She knew it, and she didn’t need telling twice. But she was suddenly overcome with an irresistible curiosity to know just how the feel of his lips on hers would be like.

The sound of footsteps made her eyes snap open, and, faster than she thought she could move, Mikasa had gently nudged Eren away, just in time for them to awkwardly get up off the mat. They hurriedly adjusted their clothes, only just then realizing the rather harried states of undress they were in from their earlier scuffle. She couldn’t even look him in the eye as she pulled her shirt back all the way down.

 _Just where had that come from,_ she wondered?

Levi appeared in the doorway. “If you two are done playing, the morning class is starting in ten minutes,” he said matter-of-factly.

Mikasa worried her bottom lip, wondering how much of what had happened was caught by Levi - and how much of it he could insinuate just from watching the two of them stand awkwardly a safe, full meter away from each other in the ring. “Um, I should go,” she said quickly, “Good to see you, Levi.” Turning to Eren, she muttered a quick, “Bye, Eren,” knowing that if she attempted to look straight at him or say anything more than that, she would give herself away. Lithely, she slipped through the ropes and out the door, faster than either of the two men could say goodbye back.

Eren looked at Levi accusingly. “Perfect timing.”

Levi shrugged. “If you wanted to do something, you better pick up the pace next time,” his coach deadpanned. “And _not in my gym.”_

Probably at least a little bit out of spite, Levi put Eren through a grueling workout for the rest of the morning, relegated to one corner of the gym while he taught his morning class. They were a bunch of rowdy middle-schoolers, off from school for the break. Right in the middle of that group, there were a boy and a girl making some ridiculous bet as to who could pin each other the most over the course of the summer.

As the two bickered well after their class ended, Levi walked up to him, bottle of water in hand. “See something familiar?” he asked, tilting his head towards the kids. Eren followed his gaze. The rest of their friends had already left, leaving just the two of them embroiled in what was clearly a battle of wills.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eren said plainly.

Levi scoffed at his boldfaced lie. “I got a call from an old friend of mine,” he said, changing the subject. “Apparently he was there for your last fight. Said he’s thinking of sponsoring you.”

Eren sat up. “That’s great!” he said, his eyes lighting up. Then, noticing that the impassive look never left his coach’s face, his brow furrowed with some mild concern. “Isn’t it great? Why don’t you look happy about this?”

The older man leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “The guy may be a gambler, but he likes to cover all his bases. He thinks your last fight was a bit too easy. He wants you to consider moving up a weight class. And maybe picking more difficult fights.”

He considered this for a moment. Bulking up was a challenge in itself, but moving up a weight class and facing harder fighters was another one altogether. But it _was_ a good thing to face harder and harder opponents. Even if he ended up losing, it still looked better on his record than padding his win streak with easy matches. He _could_ enter the professional circuit that way, but he wouldn’t learn anything. And if he were being perfectly honest, the challenge excited him more than a little. He looked up warily at his long-time trainer. “And you trust this guy?” Eren asked.

“With my life,” Levi answered gravely.

Eren laughed nervously, caught aback by his coach’s serious response. He had half-expected some snide remark, but was met with only a severity he wasn’t used to seeing from Levi. “All right, then, I’ll give it my best shot,” he said finally.

Levi nodded. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“When is it ever?” he countered.

Still, though, in the back of his mind, all he could hear was Mikasa’s shaking voice, pleading with him: _Eren, please, can’t you stop fighting?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever felt... idk... embarrassed to be writing something because seriously that fight scene in this chapter? I couldn't write it in one go because I felt I was spectating on something I wasn't supposed to be watching loool. Anyway, I finished this chapter early so I figured I'd upload it early, since I uploaded the last one a day late. I'd originally intended this fic to be short-ish, like less than ten chapters, but I'm not sure anymore with the way it's going... I guess we'll see! 
> 
> Thanks to the people who left feedback on here and on tumblr, as always I appreciate hearing your thoughts, it really does make my day... week... I am very lonely ok hahaha


	5. Passion & Obfuscation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren discovers the truth about what happened without him a year ago. (Warning: angst-heavy chapter)

That summer, the three of them made up for the time they had lost a year ago.

Every moment they could spend together, they did. Eren had his training regimen, made even more intense with the need to move up a weight class. Armin went back to his part-time job at the local library, a spot that the head librarian always reserved for him every summer since he turned sixteen. Mikasa offered to help out at the gym, and Levi gratefully accepted, only too eager to have someone pick up the slack that Eren left in his wake. But after work was over, hardly a day went by that they weren’t inseparable. They took their bikes down to the pier and stuffed themselves with unhealthy street food. They watched bad movie after bad movie at each other’s houses, trying to outdo each other with their worst picks of the week. They went to all their old hangouts and pretended they had never left their little town at all.

Armin kind of wished that it would never end.

He was glad that despite his obvious lack of subtlety he had managed to get his two best friends talking again, and then some. He hadn’t quite expected Eren to come to terms with his feelings, but that was a positive side effect of his interference that he didn’t mind taking credit for. The two of them had been blissfully unaware of their own feelings since they were kids; it was high time that they dealt with it. (In high school, there was a running bet as to who would ‘fess up first, and Armin still had good money riding on it to this day.)

But Armin knew better than to think their peaceful summer would last. Eren’s workouts were bound to only get tougher from here on out, and keep him away from them more often than not - so they had to treat each day as precious, because it was.

Even Mikasa seemed to realize this, that their little reprieve was fleeting at best. One day after work, Armin came to the gym, ready to meet up with them for ice cream. It was an especially hot day, and they all agreed that something ice cold was just what they needed. He found her sitting at the receptionist’s table, her gaze distant. Her gray eyes were clouded and unfocused; her lips were just the slightest bit down-turned. Apart from this, no one would have been able to tell her mood was any different. She only looked up at him when he gave her a little wave. “Oh - sorry, Armin, didn’t see you there,” she said, mildly embarrassed. “Sit down, Eren’s not done yet.”

“You all right?” he asked her, settling down in the seat in front of her.

She hummed in acknowledgment, but not quite in agreement. “Yeah, just…” she began to say, and then shook her head. “Hey, Armin, when did you find out you wanted to be a lawyer?”

He looked up at her, surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?” Mikasa had never really been one to talk about these sorts of things. When she heard that he applied for the pre-law program at their university, she looked at him in curiosity but didn’t question it. That was just the way she was. Mikasa waited for, rather than prompted, people to open up.

His friend shrugged, the look in her eyes still further away than he was used to seeing. “I’ve just been thinking,” she confessed, her voice low, “That I feel a bit lost. Like I don’t quite know what to do with my life.”

Armin stared at his friend, stunned by this show of vulnerability. She was, by no exaggeration, the strongest person he knew. The first time she tore her ACL, she didn’t shed a single tear, even swore she could still walk the length of the hospital corridor like nothing happened. She powered through the three months of rehab back then with almost superhuman strength and otherworldly pain tolerance, even if the physical therapist warned her that it would hurt. No, he hadn’t seen her like this since that day a year ago, when he took her home after her and Eren’s fight.

He brought her to the doctor the day after that, held her hand while they heard Dr. Zoe’s prognosis. The orthopedist had hmmed and ahhed as they pored over the images of Mikasa’s knee. When they finally looked up from the sheets, Armin felt himself give Mikasa’s hand a squeeze of reassurance, perhaps in some way more nervous than she was.

“It’s just a partial tear,” they began, pointing to the image with their pen. “See, here. I wouldn’t normally recommend surgery for a case like this, but you’ve already had this injury before, so I think you’ll find that your knee might be almost permanently unstable if you decide to go without it. We could set an appointment for surgery with Dr. Berner if you like, and with some physical therapy, you should be all set to compete again in a few months.”

“Doctor Zoe…” Mikasa began, looking up for the first time during their whole appointment. There was a look in her eyes that Armin had never seen before, an expression of desperation that didn’t suit her in the least. “I don’t want the surgery. I’m going to give up on judo.”

Armin stared at her, alarmed.

Dr. Zoe leaned in, their brow furrowed. They had been Mikasa’s doctor for all her athletic injuries since she was younger, having been Levi’s doctor, too. They had been there for every pulled muscle and every broken arm, and they had been there when she tore her ACL the first time, as well. “Are you sure, Mikasa?” they asked sympathetically, their voice and expression soft. “The surgery really won’t be painful, you know. And Dr. Berner is one of the best in the business,” they grinned at this, an attempt, probably, to cheer her up. Gesturing wildly, they were about ready to launch into a story as they started, “One time, I fractured my ankle, and wow, let me tell you, he really…”

Mikasa nodded absently, and the doctor’s words trailed off. They stood up and walked round their desk until they were standing right in front of her. “Tell you what, why don’t you sleep on it, all right? Come back in a week. I can give you something for the pain in the meantime. You can let me know what you decide then.”

Armin helped her walk out of the clinic, wondering how best to talk about what just happened. “Mikasa…” he started, uncertainly. How does one comfort a person who had never needed it before? He was at a loss. She had been there for him all those years, pressing band-aids into his wounds and chasing off his bullies, but now that she needed him, he felt helpless. “Is this really what you want?” was all he could ask.

She shot him a look of such self-pity that it broke his heart to see. “I don’t know what I want,” she replied.

It was that same look that he saw on her face today, as she told him she had no idea what to do with herself. He wondered if she was thinking of the same thing he was. He gave her a small, sad smile and reached out to touch her arm gently. “To answer your question…” he began, looking away with a little embarrassment, “I didn’t know I wanted to be a lawyer. To be honest, I still don’t.”

Mikasa looked up at that, tilting her head at him. “Really?” she asked.

“I mean, I enjoy it,” he replied, “I’ve always liked learning new things, and I’m good at talking, if nothing else. So it’s a good fit for me. But if you were asking if law is my passion, I don’t really know.” Armin’s life up until then had been a series of aptitude tests telling him he could do anything he wanted. The problem was, he didn’t know just what that was. He supposed his friend didn’t, either.

His gaze drifted over to their other friend who lay sprawled on the mat, having finally finished his workout for the day. “You know… sometimes, people know exactly what they want to do with their lives. Kind of like Eren. He’s always known that he wanted to fight. Some people have passion like wildfire,” he added. “But not everyone is that lucky. I wasn’t. And that’s okay.” 

His eyes settled on Mikasa again before he went on. “Sometimes the best thing we can do is choose, and hope we choose well.”

Mikasa nodded, giving him a small, hopeful smile in return. “Thanks, Armin,” she said quietly, that lost look in her eyes gone for the moment. It nearly made him sigh in relief.

-o-

They had a favorite ice cream spot that had been there since they were kids, right across from the park. It was a mom and pop store, full of lovingly homemade frozen treats, and they had been there so often growing up that the owners knew them by name. Over the years, they had practically memorized what each flavor tasted like, but that never stopped them. That afternoon, they’d grabbed three different flavors and bickered over which one was best before settling down at a park bench just across the street.

Eren loved these moments, he did. But a part of him - as it always did - was starting to get restless. He was dying for things to change, and was afraid that things were just moving too slowly. Ever since he was a kid, he had this feeling that he was running out of time. There was always a need for things to happen _now,_ to change _now._ He knew that that impatience was what had led to his devastating loss last year. He _knew_ it, but he couldn’t change how he felt about it.

The training regimen was working, albeit slowly. Levi had made projections and predicted that he could safely transition to the next weight class in two months. It sounded like a short time, but to Eren it was taking an eternity. The interim in between matches seemed to drag on for him forever, and he hated it. The thought that it would take all summer before he could even _begin_ to think about his next fight seemed excruciating.

Admittedly, it was not the only thing that made him restless.

He cast a quick glance at Mikasa, who was happily spooning chocolate ice cream into her mouth. He thought he saw her, earlier, talking to Armin with a sad, lost look in her eyes, but that piece of her seemed to be banished now, exchanged for the strong facade she always seemed to have up around him. He thought about her first day back, about their sparring match in the ring, about how close he was to just abandoning his better judgment and just _kissing her already._

As his eyes slid closed at that moment, all he could think was: _you’ve already hurt her one time too many. There is no way that she feels the same._

But if that was so, what the hell was that look in her eyes?

He had seen it, even if he wondered, now, if it had been a figment of his imagination. The longing in her dark gray eyes as they met his own, had he simply dreamed that? Projected his own feelings into hers? As she drew herself up on her elbows to meet him, was he imagining that as well? He didn’t trust himself, not with this, not when the past year had made him wonder and forgive.

Leaning over, he scooped out a spoonful of chocolate ice cream from Mikasa’s cup and into his mouth, smiling devilishly. “Hey!” she protested, her brow furrowing as she gave him an unconvincing glare.

“What?” he asked, his tone teasing. “It looked so good.”

Eren had no idea why, but he’d been doing all he could to try and get a rise out of her. All he wanted was to have her look at him, that was all. The way that he looked out over the crowd that afternoon for the first time in months, caught her eye in the stands, and really saw her for what actually felt like the first time. What would it take for her to look at him and see something other than her best friend?

_Look at me,_ he thought to himself, his hand reaching out instinctively. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers had lightly grazed her cheek, feather-light, his thumb tracing the little scar there with a gentleness he didn’t know he had in him. The contact seemed to surprise her just as much as it did him, because she looked up at him, confused and disquieted. And, just as quickly, he withdrew his hand, realizing just what he had been doing.

“What was that for?” she asked, a little less incensed than he thought she would be, and more… bewildered.

Eren frowned at her, gesturing to her face as he said, “You had a little…”

Armin seemed amused. “Did she?”

He shrugged. “It’s not my fault she’s a sloppy eater,” he bluffed, which was bullshit and they all knew it, but Mikasa only scowled at him, her cheeks prettily turning bright red.

Okay, he thought, maybe he had _some_ idea why he was enjoying this.

When he was done, he stood up, stretching his legs as he went to toss his empty cup of ice cream into the trash bin. Armin followed suit, right behind him. “Should we call it a night?” he asked. “I promised Grandpa I’d have dinner with him at that pasta place he likes.”

Eren nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll take Mikasa home,” he offered.

“You better,” Armin answered with a laugh. Turning to Mikasa, who was only just now finishing her ice cream, he called out, “Hey Mikasa, I’m heading out.” He walked up to her, and Eren could barely make out their friend’s voice lowering to say, “will you be all right?” and “you can talk to us if you need to, okay?” before he finally waved goodbye to them and made to leave.

They walked in silence for a while, Eren strangely aware of the distance between them. They had made up, yes, but at the same time they weren’t quite where they had been before their fight. Some of that had been his doing, deliberately as well as instinctively, as they teetered between the edge of this and something more. But some of it was the painful knowledge that the smile she reserved just for him was an armor she wore to keep herself safe.

But from what?

Watching her talk to Armin, both in the gym and in their quiet goodbyes before the other boy went to meet his grandfather, left him with the odd pain of knowing that there was something about her he didn’t know. A Mikasa that had changed in the year they weren’t together, pieces of her life that he maybe wasn’t a part of. Perhaps he was being greedy, but he wanted to know all of it. He wanted to take a sledgehammer to that wall she had put up between them, tear it all down and see what lay in the ruins. Was that selfish of him?

“Are you okay?” he asked her then, breaking the silence between them. “You seemed a little down today.”

She looked up at him, surprised, as though she genuinely didn’t think he would notice. And then - that smile again, a little sheepish, a little sad. What he would do to never have to see her smile like that again, like she _had to._ “Did it seem that way?” she asked, brushing off his concern not for the first time since they started talking again. He remembered her cagey response back when she asked her why she retired from judo. She couldn’t meet his eyes then, either. “Just feeling a little out of it, that’s all.”

“Mikasa, please.” He looked at her, almost pleading. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Maybe taken aback by the sincerity in his tone, she stopped, the canned response of reassurance no longer on her lips. _Good,_ he thought, with at least a tiny bit of spite. She was watching him now, her dark eyes searching his for… something, he wasn’t quite sure exactly what. Then, maybe not finding it, she turned away from him. “Eren, I’m fine. I don’t want to worry you, really.”

Then, because he didn’t want her to slip away like this, he reached out and took her hand in his. She looked from the place where their hands were in each other’s to his eyes, slowly. He wondered for a moment if he had ever realized just how sad Mikasa could look sometimes. Had she always looked this fragile and broken, this girl whom he had always thought to be invincible?

“Worry me,” he said quietly.

“What?” she asked.

“... Worry me,” he repeated. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, Mikasa. I want to know. I want to help you.”

She smiled up at him, a genuine one this time. Small, but at least this one was sincere. “Ever since I was a kid, Eren…” she started, an odd echo of his words to her that night. She seemed to catch herself, too, because she cast a glance over at him. “… I’ve always been in awe of you.”

He tilted his head, surprise filling his chest. If he had expected her words to be in any way the same as the ones he had uttered to her nearly a year ago, he was only too happy to be disappointed. He looked down at her, the dim, late afternoon light casting a soft light on her features. He felt, at that moment, that he would never tire of looking at her. He seemed to see something different each time.

When he didn’t say anything, she went on. “How you are when you’re fighting, like your life depends on it… I wanted that, too,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I still do, sometimes. I want to _want something_ with the same intensity you do. You were like the sun, you know?” she gave a little laugh then.

“You can still have that,” Eren answered.

She looked up at him curiously. “How?”

“I mean, you’re right, not everyone knows what they want to do with their lives,” he said, choosing his words with care. “But I think there’s something in _choosing_ something with all your heart, you know? Just go all in. That way you won’t look back and regret not doing it.”

Mikasa looked as though she was about to say something. She pivoted to face him better, but in that split-second turn, her knee gave way, sending her hurtling forward. The sad look on her face gave way to one of shock. Before she could crash to the ground, he caught her, looping his arms around her back. She seemed a lot smaller than he remembered, less muscle and more skin and bone. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked her. She was warm pressed against him, and maybe she was aware of this too, because she took a step back from him, gently pushing him away like she did that day in the gym.

“I’m…” she started to say, and he just _knew_ that the comfortable lie was on her tongue. He almost dreaded to hear it. But she stopped for a moment, her eyes focusing instead on the street that stretched out before them. He followed her gaze, and realized just what she was looking at. They were on the dead-end street where their houses stood. Though he couldn’t be sure what she was thinking, he knew what _he_ was: the last time they stood on this street together was that day he saw them off to college, his halfhearted goodbye as he let her slip away from him.

Were they going to let it happen again?

Mikasa stopped walking and turned to look at him, the expression on her face strangely resolute. “Eren,” she said quietly, “Can I ask you for a favor?”

He laughed nervously, not sure where this was going. “Okay,” he started, feeling the need to joke: “When I said I wanted you to worry me, I didn’t mean literally, though, okay?”

Her eyes didn’t waver from his for a moment, as though she was afraid she would miss any single flicker of emotion that might cross them. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Mikasa like this, her jaw set, her dark eyes locked on his. He was almost scared of what she was about to say. Finally, she said, her voice clear and steady: “Will you come with me tomorrow? I have an appointment with Dr. Zoe.” 

“... Okay,” he answered, “What sort of appointment is it?”

“Just a checkup,” she replied, “But… I don’t think I can go alone.”

-o-

Dr. Zoe’s office was quiet as he sat next to Mikasa. He’d begged the morning off from Levi, who had objected at first, but when he heard where he was going instead, he had caved in. Eren had a sinking feeling that there was something everyone else knew but him, and that he was about to find out. He could hardly sleep the night before, haunted as he was by the lump in her throat, the admission that she couldn’t make.

He kept casting worried glances at her, but her face revealed nothing. She hardly looked at him all morning, maybe afraid that she would give it all away. So he sat, impatient, while they waited for Mikasa’s tests to come back.

Dr. Zoe finally appeared, images in hand as they sat back down behind their desk. Eren held his breath, not quite sure what he was about to find out. They hung them up on the lightbox for them to see. “Well, it’s as I said last year, Mikasa. Without surgery, your knee worsened. At this rate, it might be permanently unstable,” they explained.

Eren looked at Mikasa in surprise. He hadn’t heard of any of this. He tried to wrack his brain for any recollection of their friends telling him, but he couldn’t remember a thing. He could hear his heart pounding louder, a frantic rhythm as he tried to make sense of this, and had a sinking suspicion as to why he didn’t know. Had they kept this from him on purpose? Why? Those questions flooded his mind, but the one to leave his mouth was this: “When did this happen?”

It seemed like both the right and the wrong question to ask, all at the same time. It clearly had not been the one Mikasa was expecting, because something akin to guilt seemed to cross her face, confirming what he had been hoping was _not_ the truth: that it happened after their fight. Maybe - and it pained him to even consider it - _because_ of their fight.

Mikasa had been _fine,_ that night. Shaken up from his words, for sure, but it had been two years since her knee had given out the first time and she had fully recovered by then. He remembered that night in excruciating detail: the fluorescent glow of the lights, the soft beeping of the machines around him, Mikasa’s shaky breathing. He would have remembered if she had gotten hurt. No, it had to be after. But when?

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she said quietly, instead of answering his question. It seemed like an answer in itself. “I asked Armin and Levi to keep it quiet. I didn’t…” she breathed out a sigh of regret. Then, she corrected herself, “I _don’t_ want you to blame yourself. What I did that night after I left was my own fault. And the choices I made after that were my own.”

Eren felt his heart break as he looked at her, telling him how she had to give up her future because of him, because of his careless words, his shame, his anger shaped like a double-edged sword. How could he _not_ blame himself, he wondered? Now that he knew that he was responsible, even indirectly, for hurting her yet again, he felt the burden of his sins against her on his shoulders once more. If it was even possible, they seemed even heavier than before.

Dr. Zoe looked at them sympathetically. “Mikasa… it’s not too late, you know. Just because you made that decision then doesn’t mean you have to keep making it. You can change your mind.”

They thanked Dr. Zoe and left the clinic, neither of them saying a word. He could only imagine what she had gone through the past year, and even in this she was still trying to protect him. And he, selfish as usual, didn’t realize just how deeply he’d hurt her.

“Mikasa,” he said finally, turning to her.

She looked up at him.

“I can’t do anything about what’s already happened,” he said, his voice soft. “I can keep saying I’m sorry but it won’t help what’s been done. I just hope…” he struggled to keep his voice even, “… You’ll let me keep making it up to you.”

Eren couldn’t be sure, but he thought something changed in the look in Mikasa’s eyes as they welled up with tears. Something felt different about the way she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, about the way she clung to him, her chest heaved with sobs as she cried into his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I swear I didn't intend for this fic to get this angsty but here we are. I don't really know what to say but I promise the fluff will come eventually? Lol. I didn't think that they could progress in their... whatever this is... until all their secrets were laid out in the open. In the meantime, please bear with me/them/everything.
> 
> If you like playlists, I actually have a Spotify playlist for this fic that you could find [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3U4bspaAC1CPsGaftwEsxS?si=GMprdviTRXSlku5rkUgVoA). As always, feedback is highly appreciated and I hope you all have a great week!


	6. Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa comes to terms with feelings for Eren that are quite different from what she was used to.

Winters had always been hard for her. She got cold so easily, the chill seeming to seep through all her mother’s carefully placed layers: through undershirts and sweaters and cardigans and overcoats, she would still shiver when the wind blew. Christmas gifts to her often consisted in thick sweaters, fleece-lined gloves, anything to keep her warm. Each November, when the weather started turning colder, Mikasa knew she would be in for a rough few months.

That day was no different. As she waited outside the gym, her judo lessons done, she could hear her teeth start to chatter. She wondered for a moment if she could stomach going inside and asking Levi if she could sit in his office while she waited for her parents to come pick her up. She doubted it. Levi had literally just smacked Eren over his bad form, and she had retaliated on his behalf, getting them both in trouble. She shook her head, her pride still stinging from the earful they both had received from their coach. She wasn’t sure she could manage staying inside with him for a full hour while she waited for her parents to arrive.

So, tiny, cold, but prideful, nine-year-old Mikasa Ackerman stood outside the gym door, rocking herself back and forth just to keep herself warm.

Behind her, the gym door clattered open and closed again, and out came Eren, grinning and euphoric, their earlier encounter with Levi by now completely forgotten. And, leading the boy by the hand was a tall, bespectacled man with the kind eyes, the same one she had seen bringing Eren to the gym that first day. She gave them both a small wave. “Bye, Eren,” she said, “Bye, Mr. Jaeger.”

Eren walked up to her, looking at her quizzically. “Aren’t you going home yet?”

Mikasa shook her head. “My parents said they’d be a little late today,” she answered, her voice shaky as the shivers rippled through her. “Dad has to d-do o-overtime.” She cursed herself for stammering, wished that it wasn’t this cold and that Levi would stop being such a short-tempered… shorty (she was freezing, okay, she was in no state to think up insults).

He looked up at his father for a moment before looking back at her. “We can take her home, right, Dad?” he asked. “Your house isn’t that far from mine. You can wait at our place instead.”

Mr. Jaeger looked amused at the proposition. “That sounds like a good idea. We can give your parents a call to come pick you up from our house if you like, Mikasa.”

She looked doubtful at this, her shyness catching up with her. Sure, she and Eren had been friends now for some weeks, but she didn’t know if they were _hang out at each other’s houses_ friends or if they were just judo friends, just occasionally-saw-each-other-at-school friends. Before she could think about it further, though, Eren had stepped up towards her, having taken off his red scarf and wrapping it clumsily around her neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, nonplussed.

“You looked cold,” he retorted, as if it were obvious. He had reached the end of the scarf and, probably to get her to stop staring, flipped the end of it over her face. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, turning away from her. She could see the tips of his ears turning a bright red. She wondered if he was cold too, but had given her his scarf to use anyway.

She climbed into the backseat of Mr. Jaeger’s car, grateful to be in out of the cold. The car itself smelled like pine trees and leather, smells that were familiar and comforting somehow. It felt like a safe place. Her small hand touched the scarf, soft and warm to the touch, and she felt warmed from the inside, as well. She looked up to see a pair of bright green eyes looking back at her from the front passenger seat, like he was checking to see if she was still freezing half to death. She felt herself smile. “Hey, Eren?” she asked.

“Y-yeah?” he stuttered, caught off-guard by her looking back at him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really kind?”

Eren gave her a weird look, which made her wonder if maybe she had said something wrong. Mr. Jaeger himself seemed to suppress a chuckle, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he reached over to put Eren’s seatbelt on. “Oh no, Mikasa, I’m sure no one’s ever told him that,” he said, some of his laughter unintentionally escaping him. “You see, Mikasa, Eren here,” he continued, looking at her with that same kind look in his eyes, “Only has one other friend besides you.”

Mikasa looked up at him doubtfully, but the obstinate look on Eren’s face made her think it was true. She giggled back at Mr. Jaeger. “In that case, I’m honored!” she said, beaming.

Mr. Jaeger looked appeased by this, as did Eren, even if he was mumbling something about her being the “weirdest girl he’d ever met.” That was okay. She would take it. She was, after all, his only other friend.

-o-

Something had changed that day she finally told him about her injury.

Or maybe it hadn’t changed _then._ Perhaps it had just taken it this long for her to really see it. How long ago had it been since she had been vaguely aware of the pang in her chest whenever she thought of him? Back then, before they’d made up? When they fought? Or even before that? She wasn’t certain now. But that… whatever it is… that she had been feeling, she knew what it was now, and it had been staring her in the face all this time.

Mikasa was in love with Eren.

The realization of it made her heart swell with ecstasy and fear, a combination that did nothing but unsettle her. She found her gaze following him as he moved through the gym, completely unaware of the effect he was having on her. The memory of his arms around her, steadying her as she cried into his shirt, had made her feel safe, but, inexplicably, she felt more in danger than she had ever felt in her life.

Mikasa Ackerman was a creature of routine. Her days were steady and unchanging and she preferred it that way. She resisted change with the stubbornness of an immovable object, determined to stay rooted to where she was for as long as she could manage. The thought that one of the greatest constants in her life - her friendship with Eren - would change so completely, frightened her more than anything.

So she stood there, teetering on the precipice, afraid to jump.

Thankfully (for her), it seemed that Levi’s training regimen had become more and more difficult, which meant that they could stay out of each other’s orbit in the gym more often than not. She didn’t trust herself to be alone with him right now, too afraid that maybe the impulse would win out, that maybe she would take the leap and that there was no coming back from what came next.

But the fact that they _could_ stay out of each other’s way didn’t mean they _did._ Ever since Eren found out about her knee, he had been hovering around her, taking equipment from her when she was carrying it back to the storeroom, making her sit down if she’d been on her feet for too long. It was almost funny how the tables had turned: not too long ago, she was the one nagging him to take care of himself, and now here he was, so considerate that it made her heart ache.

“Oi, Mikasa,” Levi called out to her one morning, while he was teaching a class. “Suit up and come over, I need to demonstrate _harai-goshi.”_

The downside to working part-time at her cousin’s gym was, without a doubt, having to volunteer as training dummy. It was a task she’d had for a long time, having taken turns for the post with Eren, but now that he was hard at work going up a weight class, it was understandable that most of the demos now fell to her. Without so much as a complaint, she went into the back room to put on her _judogi._

She caught sight of herself in the mirror, one of the first times in a long time, wearing the uniform she knew so well. It fit more loosely now, as she’d lost some of her muscle during her year out of practice, but every inch of it on her skin felt like an old friend. How many good memories had she made in it? She felt an odd nostalgia for it that she hadn’t felt in a while.

Then, remembering that one didn’t keep Levi Ackerman waiting, she walked back out to the main gym and made her way to where he was standing in front of his class. These students were younger than most, middle-schoolers from the looks of it. Sitting up in front were a pair - a boy and a girl - who looked up at her with bright, expectant eyes. She bit back a smile. That enthusiasm was so familiar it was nearly funny. Against her better judgment, her eyes flicked up towards where Eren was training - and felt her heart nearly leap out of her chest in mild panic when she saw that he was watching her, too.

“All right, listen up,” Levi started, beckoning for her to face him. She wrenched her gaze away from where Eren was and paid attention. _“Harai-goshi_ is a forward hip-throw. You want to put one hand…” he gestured with his left hand, grabbing the underside of her sleeve, “On your opponent’s sleeve, and the other…” he grabbed the inside of her collar with his right. “On their lapel.” Quickly, he went over the basics of how to break the opponent’s balance, slowly motioning the wrist rotation and the forward pull.

“For the footwork, this throw will need you to make two 180-degree turns, until your back is against them,” he continued, demonstrating the turn and explaining, then, where the leg would sweep the opponent off-balance. As he was doing this, Mikasa was vaguely aware of Eren walking up to them, until all six feet of him were right in Levi’s face. “Oi, what are you doing?” he asked his student. _Don’t you have better things to do,_ was the question left unsaid.

Eren frowned down at Levi. “I uh…” he began, concerned, as though he hadn’t thought his plan out this far. “Let me do it instead.”

Levi looked from Eren to Mikasa, like he was trying to read the atmosphere between them. “You two…” he sighed. “You really haven’t changed since you were kids, huh?” Then, with a look of resignation, their coach threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. Looks like we have a volunteer,” he said, stepping away from Mikasa.

The two of them stood in front of each other, tense. Mikasa was very studiously _not_ looking at him; in fact, she was looking everywhere but at him: at Levi, pleadingly, or at a stain on the far wall she was only too sure Levi will make her scrub later, or at the sweat glistening on Eren’s collarbone, just above his shirt - no, wait, don’t look at that. She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to will her mind into behaving, at least for these few minutes.

Before she knew what was going on, Eren had touched her gently on the shoulders and switched positions with her. She looked up at him curiously. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“You can do it,” he whispered back.

“I haven’t done it in more than a year!”

He winked. “It’s like riding a bike, promise. I believe in you.”

His words sent a bolt of confidence through her that she didn’t expect, and she smiled up at him gratefully, nodding a little. She could do this. She hadn’t been able to throw him last time, but he had been on his guard and her timing had been off. But she pushed that last failed attempt - and the tension that had ensued thereafter - out of her mind for now. He believed in her, so she was going to have to believe in herself a little, too.

She took a breath, calming herself, and got into position. She put her left hand on his sleeve, her right on his collar. With her right hand she tugged him closer to her; with her left, she lifted his arm up in time as she turned. She pulled him flush against her back, his body warm against hers for a second. With her right leg, she swept him off his feet, pulling him forward until his back hit the floor.

“You did it!” Eren said excitedly, still grinning as he looked up at her from the mat.

“I did it!” she repeated, grinning back at him.

“Yes, very good, you two, you pulled off a move you both learned when you were ten,” Levi said wryly. “Why don’t you two take a break,” he said, gesturing to them, and then, to his students, “And you guys, pair up, let’s see you try it.”

Eren and Mikasa had taken their _gi_ off and had gone out for a walk, because Levi-mandated time off was an infrequent blessing that they had learned to accept when they can. There was a convenience store down the street, and they made their way there in companionable silence. That is, until Eren turned to her and asked, a mischievous smile on his face: “So, how did it feel?”

Perplexed at his question and at the impish grin he was wearing, her mind went all sorts of places - the feel of his chest against her back before she threw him, the feel of his fingertips tracing the scar on her cheek the day before she brought him with her to the doctor, the feel of his body on hers as he pinned her to the mat that day in the gym - and her cheeks promptly colored at those memories. “What?” she nearly squeaked.

He tilted his head, a bit confused by her reaction. “The _harai-goshi,”_ he said, unable to hide his amusement.

“... Oh,” she answered shyly. What was going on with her? Could she really not string two words together when Eren was in front of her anymore? She looked thoughtful for a moment before she answered honestly, “… It felt really good.”

And it _did._ She had thought, for the past year, that getting back into it would bring her nothing but pain. She had gotten it tangled too much in herself, in Eren, in what they had between them, that when that bond was severed, she didn’t even want to think about it anymore. _A little peace,_ she had called it, but what she had really done was lost her mooring. For the past year, she had been adrift at sea, all because she thought that dropping anchor would hurt too much.

Next to her, Eren breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good,” he said, his smile more genuine now as he looked away. “I was scared that maybe I was… pressuring you to get back into it. I want you to know that I’m here for you whatever you decide,” he tried to look cheerful at this, but there was something so sad in his green eyes. “I just… didn’t want you to quit because of me.”

“Eren,” she said, stopping in her tracks. She reached one hand out and tugged on his sleeve, trying to get him to look at her. Just like old times. It was a familiar gesture, one that needed no other words between them. _Look at me._ And he did, turning to her, his gaze haunted by guilt. “Don’t blame yourself for any of it. I didn’t get hurt because of you. I didn’t decide to quit because of you. I was just…” she searched for the right words to say, before she finished: “Weak.”

He still looked doubtful, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and ease the crease in his brow, the tightness in his jaw. She couldn’t stop herself from taking a step forward, bridging the distance between them. She lifted her hand, slowly, and he stood there mesmerized, looking back at her, until her hand came to rest on his cheek. “It’s not your fault, okay?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he repeated softly.

She smiled up at him. “Thanks, by the way,” she said then, as they continued their walk. She thought back to him putting himself in the middle of her and Levi during the demonstration. “I know you were looking out for me. But you don’t have to keep protecting me like that, you know.”

Eren laughed at that. “Hey,” he answered, “You’re always the one protecting me. Can’t I return the favor?”

“When did I…?” she started to ask.

“All the time, Mikasa, ever since we were kids,” he replied. He looked almost wistful then, as though the mere memory made him smile infectiously. She found herself smiling, too, lost in the same memory as he recalled it. “You remember that time Levi gave me an earful over doing the same move wrong over and over, and then you gave him shit for it?”

She scoffed. “How could I forget? He made us haul all the mats into the storeroom and scrub them down as revenge. I didn’t talk to him for three days after that.”

“Yeah, and our hands were tingling from his disinfectant cocktail and we were convinced our fingers were going to fall off,” he added with a chuckle. He looked at her again, a lopsided smile - remnants of his laughter - still on his face. “Well, that was the first time. And then you just kept doing it. You kept bailing me out of trouble. Isn’t it natural I do the same?”

Mikasa was overcome with feeling over the kindness of his heart. Maybe that was what she had always loved about him from the start: from the day he confessed he took a beating for a friend, from the day he had wrapped his scarf around her and told her to come home with him. He was just so _good,_ and he didn’t even know it. “You helped me that day, too.”

He seemed surprised at this. “I did?”

“Yeah,” she answered, “I wouldn’t talk to Levi, so I didn’t want to stay in the gym while I was mad at him. But it was winter and waiting outside was torture. You came along and wrapped your scarf around me and gave me a ride home.”

Eren laughed at that. “Was that when you said I was really kind? Because my dad laughed about it to my mom over dinner. Said that was the first time he’d heard anyone call me that.”

“It’s true, though!” she protested, laughing. “You have such a good heart.”

He seemed almost embarrassed at her praise, like he didn’t think he deserved it. He seemed almost grateful they had rounded the bend and arrived at the convenience store. He held the door open for her as she went in, and they spent the next few minutes picking out juice to drink. They paid for their drinks and left the store, taking quiet sips as they made their way back. Closer to the gym now, they tossed their empty bottles of juice in a bin and continued their walk, slowing their pace as though they wanted time to move a tiny bit slower.

“I’m thinking of getting the surgery done after all,” Mikasa said finally.

Eren started at this. “What?” he asked, the hope lighting up his entire face. It was adorable, really, the way his lips slowly curved into that grin she was so fond of seeing. “Really? That’s great news! What made you change your mind? Did Levi say something? Did Armin?”

“You all did,” she confessed, looking up at the sky. The weather was perfect, warm, balmy, not a cloud in sight. And Eren was here, next to her, almost as brilliant as the sun itself. “I…” she began to say, her dark eyes on his. For a brief moment, her gaze moved to his lips, lingering there before she finished: “… Don’t want to regret not trying anything anymore. I have to know I did everything I could.”

She stopped then, painfully aware that she was standing on the edge of a cliff. This was it, wasn’t it? There was nothing else to do now but jump.

Cautiously, she took a step towards him. He froze, as though he wasn’t quite sure where this was going, and she could see in his eyes that he was frantically searching hers for some hint as to what she was about to do. She didn’t want to give it, because she just knew that if she dwelt on it for a moment longer, she simply would not be able to work up the courage.

Mikasa reached out until her hands were on his chest. She could feel her entire face prickle with heat with the knowledge of what she was about to do. Then, before she could chicken out, she pulled him down by his collar to bring his face closer to hers.

Their noses crashed together with such force that she let go and Eren staggered back, both of them yelping “Ow!” in unison. As she rubbed her nose, she wondered if there was any chance at all that she could just run away and never look back. Maybe there was a hole that could just open up and swallow her right there, on the spot. The embarrassment burned her up even more now, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. All of a sudden, the cracks in the sidewalk looked awfully interesting, and she kept her eyes on them instead.

“What were you even trying to do?” Eren asked, his own hand on his nose now, too.

“I’m sorry!” she half-mumbled, half-whined, still resolutely not looking his way. She wondered if she could book it, show up after the fall semester was over, and pretend nothing had happened, even if she knew that it was a ridiculous idea. She’d made the choice to go for it and it had backfired splendidly. “I was trying to k…” she began to say, but couldn’t seem to get the word out, her shyness a vise around her throat.

A series of emotions crossed his face in quick succession: surprise, amusement, and an odd tenderness. She was ready to make a run for it when Eren grabbed her wrist, laughing. “Wait, wait, c’mere,” he said gently, pulling her back towards him. The force was a little stronger than she expected, because she ended up with her chest flush against his. Still, she tried to fix her gaze anywhere but at his face, terrified of the expression she would find there. One of his hands was on the small of her back, and the other reached up to cup her chin, tilting her face up so she couldn’t do anything _but_ look at him.

She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath until that moment, but Eren was smiling down at her, his face just as red as hers, if not more. Then, before she knew just quite what was happening, he leaned in, closer, tilting his head just a little _(oh, so that’s how you’re supposed to do it)_ before his lips came to meet hers.

 _Gentle._ His lips on hers were so gentle, feather-light, as though he was afraid of scaring her away. His breath was warm and sweet on her face, and his eyes were half-lidded as he pulled away far too soon. Her hand on his chest told her that his heart was beating in time with hers, much, much faster than either of them was used to.

That was all it took for her to try again, reaching around his neck to pull him back down for a second kiss. She pressed her lips to his with urgency, and though he seemed surprised at first, he kissed her back with matching fervor. Both his arms were wrapped around her now, holding her close, protectively, as though he was scared she might run away again. His tongue traced the inside of her lip, warm and soft, every place it touched leaving a tingle of longing in its wake. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently, eliciting a whimper from her that she did not expect in the least.

She pulled away right there, surprised by her own reaction, her fingers over her lips like she still couldn’t believe it. Eren seemed more amused than anything. He leaned in one last time, placed one chaste peck on her cheek, right above her scar, before he grinned and told her, “It’s about damn time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So listen, I had none of this written on Sunday morning, and had posted a disclaimer over on Tumblr to apologize for there being no chapter this week because I had taken work home over the weekend. Then, after I finished said work, I tried to write this chapter and got 3800 words out in one sitting, so here we are, done early, lol. This chapter was fun to write, even if it was another one of those "oh god this bit is so embarrassing" chapters hah (btw can you even consider it an EM fluff fic if Mikasa doesn't accidentally almost injure Eren while showing affection? I'm guessing not). As always, feedback is much appreciated!


	7. Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa and Eren learn some things that they haven't yet told anyone.

Her mother had very nearly cried when Mikasa told her she decided to get the surgery done after all. When she had told her, about a year ago, that she was going to give up on judo altogether, she had smiled sadly and told her that it was all right, and that she would support and love her no matter what decision she came to. Her father was the same. But when she came home that night and asked them if they would let her do this, just this once, it was as though the dam had broken. They had, for the past year, been walking on eggshells around her. Now, her mother just wrapped her in a tight embrace and refused to let her go.

Their relief and their enthusiasm were not lost on her. She let her mother spoil her a little, let her father break out the champagne he had been saving for a special occasion. She looked on, a little sad. “Are you that happy that I might be getting back into judo?” she asked quietly, her hands folded in her lap, fidgeting.

To be honest, she was afraid of what they might tell her. Ever since she was a kid, it had been no secret that they supported her with her fighting. They went to all her exhibitions, all her matches, even the friendly ones, they cheered and whooped right along with the rest of them. When she came home that night, barely able to walk and almost carried through the threshold by Armin, and she told them that she would quit, she imagined that there was no small amount of disappointment there.

Judo was all that she could _do,_ and do _well._ And she had given that up for reasons she had refused to tell them. Surely they felt let down by it.

Her mother tilted her head. “Are you? Getting back into judo, I mean?”

“Well…” she started to say, and then realized that she had never really said anything about it - only that she was planning on getting the operation done. Her mother’s question confused her, and so she asked, “Isn’t that why you’re happy now?”

Her father grinned, putting the champagne glasses on the table and starting to pour. “Mikasa,” he said gently, “We’re happy if you’re happy.” He laughed a little at his own words. “I know that probably sounds cheesy to you, but… for the past year, you haven’t asked us for a single thing. Hearing you ask us if we would let you do the surgery the minute you come home, that’s something, isn’t it?”

Mikasa let out a short laugh in response. “It’s a little cheesy,” she acceded, but the grin was still on her face. “But…” she said, letting out a breath, “I don’t want to be scared of trying anymore. I don’t want to look back and regret not going for it while I still had the chance. I still don’t know if it’s what I want to do with my life,” she added thoughtfully, “But I should at least give myself a fair shot.”

“That’s my girl,” her father cheered, pushing the champagne glass in her direction. “Drink up, we’re celebrating.”

Her mother reached out and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Did something good happen?” she asked, her smile curious but sweet, in the mildly prodding way that mothers often smiled. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

Her mother’s question summoned the memory of Eren’s lips, soft, slightly chapped, pressed against hers, back to her mind, and she could feel her cheeks growing hot from the recollection. “Nothing… happened,” she lied, partly because she wasn’t sure she could get the words out without making an idiot out of herself, and partly because whatever… _that_ was… it was so new and so fragile that she didn’t want to doom it before it started.

After they had gotten back to the gym earlier that day, Levi had put Eren straight to work, having brought in a friend of his - Oluo, she thought his name was - to be the younger man’s sparring partner. The man was a brawler and a loudmouth, but he was good.

For her part, she was thankful that Eren was kept busy, because that meant she had time to sort out her own thoughts. The elation of reciprocated feelings, the giddy joy of her first kiss, were toe-to-toe with the fear in the pit of her stomach that this happiness could not possibly last. It seemed almost too good to be true, that not only were they speaking again, his words from a year ago a thing of the past, but also that what she felt for him - maybe what she had always felt for him - was not one-sided.

But if it wasn’t, what were they?

They could hardly pretend they were just best friends now, with the tension that had gradually risen between them since they saw each other again the day of his first big amateur fight. And yet, they weren’t _quite_ more than that, were they?

Her father reached out then and clinked his champagne glass with hers and her mother’s, eager to drink. Mikasa took a sip of her champagne, too, and it was fizzy and pleasant as it went down, warming her from the inside, as did the look on her parents’ faces. After a few minutes, her dad walked off, announcing he was going to give Levi a call and tell him all about it, leaving Mikasa and her mom sitting quietly at the table.

“So,” her mother said finally, a teasing look on her face, “How’s Eren these days?”

If Mikasa had thought she had escaped her mother’s suspicion, she now knew that she was completely wrong. She should have known better than to try and hide the truth from one of the few people in this world who knew her best. Instantly, she flushed, flustered and not quite sure what to say. “Um…” she said, “He’s… uh… fine. We’re fine.” It was not the most eloquent of responses, but Mikasa had never been good with words, and she was even worse so when confronted for the truth.

The older woman smiled, a little sadly. “I’m glad you two made up, Mikasa. I know you both care about each other, but…” her voice trailed off a little there, and the implication of it made Mikasa’s heart sink.

“But… what?” she asked, even if she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know.

She shook her head. “But he’s not very… careful with other people’s feelings, Mikasa,” she answered, looking her in the eye. “When you two fought last year, I was so angry. How could he hurt you like that when you two had been friends for such a long time? I wanted to yell at him for being such an ungrateful brat.” She almost seemed embarrassed by the admission: her mother, who would never even hurt a fly, had wanted to give Eren a piece of her mind. The sentiment was touching but sad, too, somehow. She sighed. “I’m happy if you’re happy. But I don’t want you to get hurt again. You could cut yourself on those rough edges, sweetie.”

Mikasa said nothing, even if everything in her wanted to come to Eren’s defense: he’s not like that anymore, he apologized, he’s changed. But the truth was that she had known all along that he was capable of hurting her, whether he meant to or not. That was the dangerous vulnerability that came with opening her heart up to him completely.

“I’ll be careful enough for the both of us,” she answered quietly, a promise both to her mother and to herself.

Her mom smiled back at her. “That’s all I want to know.”

-o-

There were a few things that Dr. Zoe told her that she didn’t tell anyone.

The first was this: that recovery was not going to be easy. She would have to use crutches to walk for the good part of two weeks, with consistent physical therapy for months afterwards. And though her father had already begun to celebrate and had gone as far as to call Levi up to tell him she would be back on the mat as soon as time would allow, that was not any time soon. The doctor warned her that complete recovery would take her as long as another nine months, and that was if she was lucky.

The second was this: if she _wasn’t_ lucky, she could potentially permanently damage her knee, and make it so that not only could she never compete again: she could give herself a hard time even walking in the future.

“It’s not a sure thing, because there isn’t that much literature on the subject,” Dr. Zoe explained, that day when she came to tell them about her decision. “But some studies suggest that patients who receive ACL reconstruction surgery 12 or so months post-injury are at much higher risk of meniscal tears. Nearly 20% greater risk, if we want to be specific. You may very well be going back onto the mat just to cripple yourself.”

She remembered sitting there in front of the doctor’s desk, mulling over her words. Her hope that perhaps she could go back to that time was quashed by the fear of the unknown. 20% seemed like such a small number on paper, but it was enough to give her pause. Mikasa liked sure things. She liked _certain_ things. The thought that she was once again betting her entire future on a probability scared her to no end.

But it was a fear she didn’t share with anyone else. She had made her decision, and she was not going to bother anyone else with it.

Certainly not her parents, who were so happy for her that they had literally broken out the booze that went very nearly untouched throughout the year except for New Year’s Eve. She didn’t think she wanted to see the look on her father’s face if she had to tell him that there was a chance she could be badly hurt. It was a perk of being over eighteen that she no longer needed her parents to sign any waivers on her behalf with the hospital, because she wasn’t sure how they would react if they had been in the consultation room with Dr. Zoe as well.

Certainly not Levi, who called her almost the moment her dad hung up the phone with him. He spent nearly three full minutes berating her for taking so long to decide and calling her a brat before letting up and assuring her he would be honored to be her coach again if she decided to compete once more. It was a compliment of the highest order coming from him, and she felt her thanks choke her as the words left her lips.

Certainly not Armin, whom she called a mere few minutes after she told Eren, her face still hot from how they ended that conversation. He had been at work at the library and had nearly dropped all the books he had been shelving at her admission. From the other line, she could hear how genuinely happy he was for her, going so far as to promise he’d be waiting outside the operating room on the day itself to drive her home.

And certainly not Eren. In fact, she would really rather tell anyone _but_ Eren. The look in his eyes when she told him that she decided to get the surgery done after all had been the happiest she’d seen him in such a long time. Recalling it now that she knew what she did was a stab of pain in her heart. How could she tell him, after she reassured him so confidently that he had done nothing wrong, that there was a chance that her injury was beyond repair?

She couldn’t do that to him.

-o-

There were a few things that Levi told him that he didn’t tell anyone.

The first was this: he had hit his weight goal earlier than expected, due in no small part to Levi’s unforgiving workout regimen. This was something Eren was thankful for, of course, because day in and day out of mindless training in the gym was bound to drive him crazy eventually. Not even the blabbermouth that Levi had brought in as his sparring partner - Oluo? Oruo? What kind of name even _was_ that? - kept him entertained enough for his thoughts not to wander. That only angered the older man, of course, and though he kept biting his tongue every time they sparred because he refused to wear a mouthguard, he didn’t pull any punches. At least every two out of five times, Oluo would have him tapping out on the mat, and those were not great odds.

The second was this: he had found out the name of his next opponent, whom he was set to face by the end of the summer.

His name was Porco Galliard.

“He’s an upstart,” Levi mentioned to him in passing, “Not a big name by himself just yet, just an amateur around your level. The only reason why he’s getting hyped up is because you’ve probably heard of his older brother - Marcel.”

Eren nodded. Marcel Galliard was a legend in his own right. His professional career had been short-lived, and had ended tragically - with a fatal accident in the ring. But during his few professional matches, Marcel had dazzled the professional mixed martial arts scene, often knocking his opponents out mere minutes after the fight began. If Porco was anything like his older brother, then this fight was not going to be an easy one.

“Your would-be sponsor picked this match, by the way,” Levi continued. “Said he thought it would be a good fit.”

It had been some time since Levi mentioned this mystery sponsor to him. He still knew next to nothing about him, apart from the fact that he had apparently been the reason Levi had gotten into fighting in the first place. Knowing just how difficult it seemed to influence Levi to do anything, Eren wondered just what kind of effect the other man must have on him. He could hardly convince Levi to do anything, but here his coach was, full of faith in this person. It kind of made him want to trust in him, too.

Facing this new opponent was not going to be easy. He already knew that from the get-go. Going up a weight class was one thing, but he knew that these new opponents that his sponsor was choosing for him were more than just that. They were a test. A test to see if he could make it in the professional fighting scene. They were going to be tough and that was an understatement. If he went in underestimating his enemy, he was going to end up with a painful reminder of how his first amateur match went: with his head bleeding out in the middle of the octagon.

That was probably why he couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone about it.

Not his mother, who was his self-confessed number one fan, who didn’t understand a thing about the technical side of mixed martial arts but listened to him with rapt attention whenever she asked him to tell her about his day. He didn’t want her to worry, because he knew that telling her just what he was going to face was only going to stress her out.

Not his father, either, who had always regarded his passion as some sort of phase, maybe because he figured that maybe he wouldn’t really care, anyway. He would sometimes ask Eren when he was going to go to college and get a “real job”, as though chasing his dreams took a backseat to reality.

Not Armin, though he did come close. His best friend seemed to gather that something was up, though he did his best to pretend he didn’t. Armin had always been observant, almost to a fault. Nothing slipped past him. But he seemed to feel that Eren was holding back, and didn’t push him for it.

And definitely not Mikasa. When he learned that he was finally going to get back in the ring, a part of him felt some trepidation about telling her. Memories of their fight - especially after he had learned that that night had injured her in ways that he couldn’t begin to atone for - played over and over in his mind. Her trembling voice asking him not to fight anymore was something he had committed to memory, unconsciously, so much so that it often figured in his dreams.

_Eren, can’t you please stop fighting?_

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. She may as well have told him to stop breathing. The look on her face as he lashed out at her for being worried for his safety was etched in his mind, a permanent scar. It was a hurt he didn’t want to inflict again, but one that he was afraid he would, just because he was selfish. He wanted to have it all. He wanted to fight, but he wanted to be with her, too.

Sometimes that seemed like too much to ask.

-o-

The waiting area outside the operating room was so quiet, Eren could almost hear his heart pounding in his ears. There was nothing to worry about, all things considered; the operation was a low-risk one, and Dr. Zoe had assured them that Dr. Berner was perfectly competent at his job. The white fluorescent lights reflected off the metal chairs in the hallway, painting everything a clinical, austere shade of white.

He had never been one for sitting still, ever since he was younger, but for some reason he felt even more restless now. It had been a bit over an hour and a half, and they were told the procedure usually ran for two hours. That morning, he had shown up at the gym to train, as usual, but Levi had promptly thrown him out when he started to check his phone every ten minutes, making it painfully obvious that he couldn’t focus on anything else. So he went straight to the hospital, where Armin was also waiting.

“She’s going to be fine,” his friend assured him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

Eren looked up at the other boy. “I know,” he answered, and then, more softly: “I know.”

Armin did not seem reassured by this, and so he went on. “Mikasa’s the strongest person we know. She’ll come out of this just fine.” But Eren knew that tone of voice, because he knew Armin all too well. It wasn’t just for Eren’s benefit; it was for his, too.

“Yeah… but she’s still not as strong as she makes herself out to be sometimes.” He thought of when she had taken him with her to see Dr. Zoe, the fear only thinly veiled behind her calm, collected demeanor. He thought of her crying into his chest, her shoulders shaking from the violence of her sobs. It had been the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her. He didn’t like it, didn’t want to see her this way, didn’t want her to ever have to feel like that again.

Some days he wondered: if he apologized every day for the rest of his life, would it even be enough to make up for how he’d hurt her?

His friend nodded, sitting down next to him. The other boy’s blue eyes were fixed on Eren’s hands, fidgeting on his lap. Armin smiled a little, putting a hand on his shoulder. Eren smiled back, and then looked back down at his hands, too. “We kissed,” he said suddenly.

Whatever Armin was expecting to hear, it clearly wasn’t _that._ “Wait, what?” he asked, the laughter coming involuntarily out of him. Eren knew his best friend well enough to know that nervous laughter was his coping mechanism, and the response made him snicker, too. When Eren didn’t elaborate, Armin went on to ask: “Okay, wait, when did this happen?”

“A couple days ago,” he mumbled, a little shy. Since then, he found he just couldn’t seem to stop being around her, touching her, wanting a repeat of that moment because it wasn’t even close to enough. It was as if after a year of falling in love all by himself and keeping his distance, the floodgates had been opened by as simple an instant as Mikasa grabbing him by the collar and very nearly breaking his nose.

“Who ‘fessed up first?” Armin asked, fully entering some sort of cross-examination mode that he’d forgotten his friend was capable of.

“’Fessed up? There was no ‘fessing up,” he replied, “Why do you even want to know?”

“I may have a bet riding on this,” Armin admitted sheepishly.

“You what?”

“Marco bet Mikasa would own up first, and Jean put his money on you two were never going to get together.”

Eren snorted. “Of course he did.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious at the thought of having to actually _say something_ about how he felt. “Do you even need to do that?”

Armin tilted his head at that. “Well… don’t you?” he asked. “What does that make you now, anyway? Boyfriend and girlfriend, or friends who kissed once?”

“... Thrice,” he corrected defensively. “We kissed _thrice.”_

The blond laughed again despite himself.

-o-

When she woke up, the first thing she saw was Eren.

The anesthesia still left her dizzy, and the bright lights made her squint. But she would know him anywhere, blurry as he was, her hand in his as he gently traced little circles there. “Hey,” she whispered, her voice a hoarse whisper, “You’re here.”

“Here” was a hospital ward, probably the recovery room for post-operation patients. It was empty, except for a few beds on the far end of the room covered by curtains. The walls were a stark white that was painful to look at, bare except for a wall clock hanging above the door. It had been more than three hours now since her surgery started.

“Hey,” he answered, leaning in a bit closer. “How are you feeling?”

She thought about it for a moment. “… Thirsty,” was the first response that came to mind.

Unexpectedly, Eren raised an eyebrow and grinned cheekily at her. “Yeah?” he asked, the lilt in his voice more than a little bit amused. His voice low, he went on: “Well, I’m sorry about that, but there’s nothing we can do about it while we’re in the hospital.”

Still groggy from the anesthetic, it took her a beat or two to process his words, but when they sank in, she blushed furiously. “Eren!” she scolded, making to swat him on the arm. He caught her hand mid-swing, and shot her a sly wink. His fingers entwined with hers and held their hands up against his cheek. His face was warm, too, and she could barely make out a blush on there to match hers.

“If you’re trying to hurt me, that probably means you’re okay,” he said with a wide grin. That smile was tempered, just a little, before he added, “That’s good. I was worried.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “You? Worried?” she asked in mocking disbelief.

“Yeah, me,” he answered defensively.

“I didn’t think you had it in you to worry,” she replied with a wry smile.

“Yeah, well…” he started, his gaze leaving hers like he couldn’t get the words out if he were looking at her. “… Turns out I like you a lot.”

Mikasa felt her jaw drop in surprise. In realization, she closed her mouth, opened it once more to say something, and found that mere words couldn’t possibly be enough to respond to that. Softly, she smiled at him, and leaned over the hospital bed to give him a quick peck on the forehead. “Thanks,” she answered, “I like you a lot, too.”

Eren looked at her, dumbfounded, red all the way up to his ears. For a moment there, she thought he was about to do something, because his eyes darted from her eyes to her lips and back again. Before he could move an inch, though, the door opened, and Armin appeared. On reflex, Mikasa yanked her hand out of Eren’s grasp and very nearly fell out of the hospital bed in her rush to put some distance between them. Eren looked vaguely offended.

“Oh, hey, Mikasa, you’re up. I was just talking to the nurse, she says you’re free to go if you’re feeling better. Dr. Berner also left some instructions for you,” Armin said innocently. She looked at him, trying to get a read on his expression. Did he really not see anything? Or… before she could continue that thought, though, he added, sneakily, “By the way, Eren told me.”

Mikasa swatted Eren on the arm again, and this time he didn’t stop her. “I deserved that,” he muttered, massaging the place where she’d hit him. Casting a glance at her, he asked, “Ready to go?”

She felt her heart flutter. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! I was going through some personal and work issues, but hopefully my upload schedule will be a lot more regular from now on. Thanks as always to everyone who leaves a kudos or a comment or even just keeps up with this self-indulgent little pet project, lol. Hope you guys had a good release week! (Tbh Chapter 135 was the first time in a long time I've felt really hyped over a chapter, so I have high hopes for the home stretch.)


	8. Safe Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren goes to meet his new opponent and finds an old one as well.

Eren had hoped to keep his upcoming fight a secret for as long as possible, but the moment he stepped into the venue for the weigh-in, that hope went out the window. The room was jam-packed from front to back with reporters all chattering at the same time, photographers eager to get their exclusive first look at the contenders, and the officials from the amateur ring that put this fight together. Even Levi seemed unnerved at the sheer volume of onlookers who turned their heads to see them entering the room, but if Eren’s coach felt intimidated at all, he didn’t show it. Instead, the older man merely squared his shoulders and gestured for Eren to follow him up the aisle towards the front of the room.

He was aware of every eye fixed on him as he took what felt like the longest walk he’d ever had to make. Sports journalists for the local scene were busy muttering furiously into their voice recorders, making notes for that first draft they would soon have to write. In the low buzz of the room, he could barely make out phrases like “following his once-Olympic champion coach Levi Ackerman”, or “a no-name up-and-comer from the suburban backwoods”. He grit his teeth and resisted the urge to turn around and give them a dirty look.

He and Levi had severely underestimated the pull that the Galliard name seemed to have in their amateur MMA circle. Though Porco himself had not yet competed professionally, the fact that Marcel had come before him and had been a superstar in his own right meant that everyone who followed the sport was just waiting for him to get his own big break. And if Eren was unlucky, _he_ was going to provide the younger Galliard’s golden ticket to the big leagues.

He shook his head. _Like hell he was._

Eren nodded to the officials, who nodded back to him. He knew the odds just as well as anyone here. He was the underdog here, there was no doubt about it. Galliard had several matches on him, and a damn near spotless track record, at that. On the other hand, Eren had lost his very first fight through no one else’s fault but his own.

So he stood there patiently, waiting for Galliard to arrive. After another ten minutes, the doors opened again, and there he was: Porco Galliard, six feet tall, a smirk on his distinctly smug face, hair slicked back like he knew there would be photographers in attendance. Eren didn’t know the guy, but something about him rubbed him the wrong way already. The other man took his time walking up the aisle, nodding to the cameramen who were busy snapping away. Behind him, his retinue followed - an older man whom Eren assumed was his coach, and a few others wearing white bomber jackets identical to Galliard’s: members of the same gym, he supposed.

He would have thought nothing of it if a familiar face hadn’t caught his eye.

Falling in behind Galliard, dressed in the same white jacket, was Reiner Braun.

He was even bigger than Eren remembered, and Eren’s memories of competing against him in the high school judo circuit always had Reiner towering over him. Even with Eren at six feet tall, Reiner was a titan in comparison. He caught Eren looking over at him and managed a polite, tight-lipped smile before getting in line behind Galliard and the others.

Eren felt his lips twitch into a scowl. After all this time, _this_ was how they were going to cross paths again?

Levi seemed to notice the change in Eren’s demeanor, and a glance over at the opposing team was enough for him to realize what had happened. His coach looked at him and held up a hand. “Stay calm,” he said, the warning evident in his voice. His eyes were steely and impassive, a contrast to Eren’s own, which held an anger there that wasn’t likely to go out. “Remember, you’re not here for _him._ Your opponent is _that_ guy.” Levi gestured to Galliard, who in turn looked as though he was sizing Eren up and was not in the least bit impressed.

The officials called for the weigh-in to start, and as they went through the motions, all Eren could think about was how Reiner could just stand there so calmly as though nothing had happened. What was he even doing here? If he and Galliard were teammates, then that meant he had to have known Galliard was facing Eren in his match tomorrow. If that was the case, was he here to intimidate Eren? To shake him up before the fight? He narrowed his eyes. Whatever it was, it was not going to work.

Eren stepped away from the scale and was ready to leave, but the photographers clamored for a good photograph of the two fighters together. This match was, without a doubt, his biggest one yet. He wasn’t sure he was quite used to the flashbulbs going off as the photographers posed them this way and that. Across from him, Galliard’s mouth was turned up in a sneer. Eren scowled back at him, his reaction instinctive and visceral. He didn’t even need to ham it up for the cameras; he was certain they caught his annoyance just fine.

With the photoshoot finally over, Galliard reached a hand out for Eren to shake. “Eren Jaeger, right? Can’t wait to see you in the ring tomorrow. May the best man win.” Though his words were the picture of sportsmanship, there was nothing less than a challenge hidden between the lines. Eren wasn’t an idiot. He caught their meaning instantly.

Begrudgingly, he took Galliard’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Yeah, he will,” Eren answered, unsmiling. “See you in the ring.”

The smug look on Galliard’s face fell for a moment. He scoffed, his mask of cool unflappability having slipped. Then, just as quickly, he recovered, that grin on his face once more. “Confident, aren’t you?” he asked with a laugh. “Looks like everything Reiner said about you was true.”

At the mention of Reiner’s name, Eren’s eyes went back to his one-time rival, who was standing behind Galliard. At the same time, Reiner’s gaze fell, a guilty look passing through them. So he did know - and worse, he had told his next opponent all about him. Eren dared Reiner to look him in the eye, but he refused to do so. Instead, he shrugged. “I’m not sure how useful what he told you will end up being,” he said, “The last time Reiner and I faced each other was at least three years ago. I’m sure there are _some_ things he doesn’t know.”

Reiner’s face turned pale.

“Don’t worry about me,” Galliard answered, just as resolute. “Reiner may have given me some hints, but there’s plenty I can do by myself in the ring.”

Before he could get another word in, Levi walked up, tapping him on the shoulder. “We should get back,” he said, the unspoken warning clear in his voice: _that’s enough. Don’t let him get to you._

Eren frowned, but he knew that flying off the handle now was going to do him no good. He followed Levi out of the room without another word, but he did notice that all the way to the door, Reiner didn’t so much as look in his direction.

“Listen, Eren,” Levi said later, once they were out of earshot. “I’m not going to tell you not to be angry, because that’s when you’re strongest. But I _am_ going to remind you that you have to focus here. You can’t let him get to you, because clearly, that’s what he wants. You have to _stay calm.”_

He looked as his coach and sighed. “You’re right,” he grumbled, even though he didn’t like it. He had known Galliard for all of ten minutes and he already pissed him off to no end. Add to that the fact that Reiner was in his camp, too… this was not going to be an easy fight. As the car drove past the university where he’d walked Mikasa to only a few months ago, he turned to Levi. “Hey, can you let me off here?”

“Why…” Levi started to ask, and then he realized where they were. He rolled his eyes. “Fine, you can go. But don’t stay out too late.”

Eren grinned. “Yeah, Mom, I won’t.”

The school gate was wide open, and students were walking leisurely down the concrete paths between buildings. The late summer air was pleasant, and people were taking their time: it was the last week before classes would start, after all. He found himself walking down the lanes himself, wondering not for the first time how things would have been if he had joined Armin and Mikasa here in the first place. Would he be walking these same paths with them too? He felt an odd sense of nostalgia for a future that never was.

Eren had never been particularly good at school. He did well enough when he put effort into it, but he was never interested enough in learning to motivate himself to study. Not like Armin, who enjoyed studying more than anything else, and not like Mikasa, who excelled at everything without even trying, school included. Still, though, when they were younger, they had thought all three of them would always be together. Now, it had been more than a year since they had gone their separate ways.

He pulled his phone out and dialed Mikasa’s number, wondering if she was going to answer. She had been caught off-guard before when Levi had offered to drive them all up to the city together, since Eren was going in for his weigh-in anyway. He had not quite _forgotten_ to tell them as much as he had been putting it off for the last minute. In waiting for the opportune time, he had missed it completely, and the two-hour drive to the city was tense with accusation.

Still, she answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mikasa, where are you?” he asked.

“Headed back to the dorm,” was the short, clipped reply. Ouch, so she _was_ at least a little bit annoyed with him. “Sasha and I went out for groceries. Why, are you…” she stopped, and he turned around. Sure enough, she was standing there, paper bags in each arm, an unreadable look on her face. Even so, Eren felt all his anger from that morning dissipate into nothing. Just seeing her was enough to banish all thoughts of Galliard and Reiner from his mind. And thank fucking goodness for that.

There was a brunette standing next to her, whom Eren assumed to be Mikasa’s roommate. She looked at Mikasa, then at Eren, and then back at Mikasa, the curious look on her face growing with each passing moment.

Eren put on his most charming smile. “Hey, it’s Sasha, right? Here, let me help you with that,” he said smoothly, as he took the bags of groceries out of her arms. He knew turning on the charm with Mikasa when she was angry would be a futile effort, so maybe Sasha could help him out a little here.

Mikasa breathed out, still seeming a little miffed, but she gestured to him nonetheless. “Sasha, this is Eren, my…” she paused for a moment, her eyes flicking to him. They hadn’t really had this conversation before and it was clear she didn’t want to assume anything.

Eren grinned. It was a good thing _he_ was quite willing to do the assumptions for both of them. “… Boyfriend,” he finished confidently. “Nice to meet you.”

 _“Boyfriend?”_ Sasha asked incredulously, but with no small amount of giddiness. She laughed at that, and turned to her roommate with a wicked grin. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were busy this summer!”

Mikasa had looked away, clearly not having expected his admission. Her face had turned a pretty shade of red he didn’t think he’d seen on her before, so he hoped she was a little less angry with him now. She was silent as she followed behind them, with Sasha leading the way up to their dorm room. The brunette was only too pleased to be asking him the usual questions: how they met, how long they’d known each other, how they became a thing. Eren was aware of Mikasa listening quietly from behind them, and he wondered what she was thinking.

The three of them worked together to put their groceries away, and soon Sasha retreated to the bedroom to change and head out to her part-time job. That was what she said, anyway, but Eren wondered if the other girl had made up an excuse to give them a moment alone. If she did, it was much appreciated.

“How’s your knee?” he asked, his first question these days. It had been a bit over a week since her operation. Dr. Berner had mentioned she might need to be on crutches for two weeks, but in classic Mikasa fashion, she had healed far quicker than normal, and was up and about in less than that time.

“Good. It doesn’t hurt at all,” she answered, and then she fell quiet again. After a while she spoke up again. “Why didn’t you tell me about your fight?” Mikasa asked him, her voice small. It was clear she’d been thinking about asking since the moment they’d laid eyes on each other today, and he didn’t blame her in the least.

He looked down at the floor, unsure what to say. “I was going to tell you,” he said. “I just didn’t know how. Last year, we…” he started, and then stopped again. Last year was a wound he didn’t want to keep opening up. The same wound he was trying to heal her from. He shook his head. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

She laughed a little, but there was something sad about it. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What did you tell me this summer?” she asked him, her smile gentle as she looked up at him. “ _Worry me,_ Eren. I still don’t want to see you hurt. I’ll never want to see that. But I also want to help you in any way I can.”

 _Wow,_ he thought as he looked at her, _I’m so damn lucky._

“Then…” he said, his eyes not leaving hers, “Will you stay with me?”

“I’m right here.”

“No, I mean…” he clarified, as though he was embarrassed for even asking, “… Tonight.”

She blinked, looking up at him, like she couldn’t believe what she just heard. Mikasa blushed profusely, all the way to the tips of her ears. “Eren!” she hissed, keeping her voice low, “You have a fight tomorrow. If you needed a reminder.”

Eren attempted to look scandalized. “Mikasa,” he answered, abashed. “It’s just… I’m a bit riled up after the weigh-in, and I think I’d sleep better if you were around. I wasn’t suggesting anything _else,_ though if you’re interested, I guess that could be arranged…”

Mikasa scowled at him. “You’re sneaky.”

He grinned cheerfully in response. “And you’re adorable.”

She shot him a look that practically screamed, _“who are you and what have you done with Eren?”_ which was exactly what he was hoping for. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle, and a few moments later, neither could she, because soon they were both laughing hysterically. If either of them had been on the edge at the start of this conversation, all that was gone now.

Then, her voice soft, she finally said, “… Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

He felt his heart leap to his throat.

They spent the rest of the day with Mikasa showing him the sights around the city - the gym where she worked part-time, the diner around the corner she swore made the best waffles she’d ever tasted, and the bronze monument to a war hero whom she and Armin saluted to every time they passed by. It was mind-boggling to think that a few short months ago, he was not a part of their lives. He was a bystander in that Mexican restaurant as Armin and Mikasa ordered “the usual,” greeted the waiters with the friendly familiarity of a regular. But all this had been alien to him, and it still struck him as strange that there had been parts of his friends that he did not know, aspects of their lives he was not privy to.

But here Mikasa was now, taking him by the hand and letting him in, showing him all those places to which he thought he was not welcome.

It was almost nine when they got back to his hotel room, at Mikasa’s pleading, because she said she wanted him to rest up for his fight tomorrow. (He considered making a _“well, someone’s excited”_ joke but thought better of it, fearing that any teasing might scare her off.) He had given in, finally, after her insistence, because he knew that there really was no talking Mikasa Ackerman out of anything. But after the hotel room door clicked closed, a tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago locked itself in with them.

He watched her standing there, unsure of herself, very much the way she looked a few months ago that night they had been drinking. Her cheeks were tinged pink, as they had been back then, right when he asked, _“What about you? (Are you staying over?)”_ A part of him couldn’t quite believe she was here now. It seemed almost surreal. She hovered by the threshold, as if taking another step closer would be one step too far.

And maybe it _was_ too far for them, right here, right now. The air between them was heady with anticipation, and something in Eren longed to touch her, to close the distance between them. He wasn’t sure quite when it started - when they first kissed, when he first laid eyes on her again after nine months, when he first came to terms with his feelings - did it even matter now? He felt it like a physical ache inside him, more a need than desire.

But more than anything, he feared that that very passion she had told him she was so drawn to might be the very thing that would hurt her.

So he would wait. Just having her here was enough for now.

They took turns using the bathroom and got into bed, with Eren putting on a random movie on TV. It was a bad romantic comedy, and he spent most of it booing the male lead every time he said some cheesy line. Mikasa laughed and tried to shush him, but she wasn’t really paying much attention to the movie, either. Because right in the middle of the proposal scene, she suddenly asked him, “What happened at the weigh-in that got you so stressed out?”

Eren looked over at her, her gray eyes wide and searching his face for clues. He sighed. “Reiner was there.”

“Ah,” she said, needing no further explanation as she looked away. She had been there for the thick of it, too. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

He shook his head. “Except he did the exact same thing again. Fed everything he knew about me to my opponent.” He looked away, his jaw set in a tight line as he recalled what had happened between them years ago. And then Reiner had the nerve to show up at his weigh-in? And yet, he couldn’t help but recall the look of guilt on the other man’s face.

“Hey,” Mikasa said, putting her hand over his. “You trained for this all summer. You can trust yourself. It doesn’t matter what he said.”

Eren felt his anger dissipate, then, the haziness of his rage clearing until she was all he could see. He smiled weakly and leaned in until he rested his head on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he told her earnestly.

He felt her fingers thread gently through his hair. “Any time.”

-o-

If the weigh-in had been any indication of what the actual match would be like, Eren had still underestimated the pull that Galliard seemed to have. Their match was second-to-last, which was damn near main event status, even more impressive considering he was a rookie. Galliard had seemed to rack up a name for himself not just on his brother’s name, but also on his spotless track record. He couldn’t resist peeking into the crowd and had found that every seat was occupied. Not that Eren was one for stage fright; he could not care less that everyone was watching. What was important to him was that _he_ would do his damnedest to win.

As he made his way to the locker room, he ran into the last person he wanted to see.

“Eren,” Reiner greeted, his voice somber. He was wearing that same white jacket he’d worn the day before, the one with their team name emblazoned on the front: Marley Warriors. Just the sight of him was enough to make Eren’s mouth twitch downward in displeasure.

“Reiner,” he said coolly, “I didn’t think you had a fight tonight.”

“I don’t,” the other man admitted. “I came to apologize… and wish you luck.”

Eren scoffed. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Reiner crossed his arms, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Better late than never, don’t they all say that?” he asked. “I’m sorry for what happened when we were younger, but I’m willing to put it behind us if you are.” He even reached out a hand for Eren to shake, just for good measure. Eren looked down at it, feeling almost insulted by the olive branch, by Reiner making himself out to be the bigger man between the two of them.

He looked up at him dispassionately. “And if I’m not?”

Reiner almost looked disappointed, his gaze not meeting Eren’s anymore as he answered, “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, is there?” He shook his head. “Porco’s not a bad guy, by the way. He can come off a little strong, but…”

Eren smirked. “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me,” he interrupted, seething, “Wouldn’t want you to sell out _all_ your friends, now, do we?” He didn’t let Reiner get another word in, instead turning his back and walking into the locker room. As he did, he felt his anger start to bubble up inside him again. _Stay calm,_ he thought to himself quietly, _you can trust yourself._ Levi and Mikasa’s words repeated in his mind like a mantra.

_You can trust yourself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally I have to remind myself that this is at least a little bit an MMA story and not just a vehicle for me to add as many cute fluffy in love EM scenes as I can, but I hope you guys continue to bear with me, lol.


	9. Moving Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren faces Porco in his biggest fight to date.

The few minutes before a match were always the longest and most dizzying. For all his talk of chasing his dreams, the sound of his name being yelled out to a roaring crowd always made his ears pound. It was intoxicating, yes, exciting and addictive, but the kind of inebriation that went straight for your head, all at once, like a sucker punch. As he stood there in the corridor waiting for his cue to come out, he could hear the buzz of the audience outside, the idle chatter of the announcers exchanging leftover commentary from the match that had just ended, and the boom of the music meant to hype up everyone in the arena. Next to him, Levi stood silently. They were always quiet before his fights: Levi was not a believer in last-minute tips and tricks.

Eren’s hands fiddled with his gloves restlessly. He wasn’t _afraid,_ no. He had trained for this all summer and he was prepared, if not confident. It was just that he had not quite expected to see his old friend and rival here, hadn’t thought he would make an appearance - to do what, exactly? Patch things up? After all these years? Somehow, Eren thought that highly unlikely. There had been time enough after that incident, but he had not seen hide nor hair of Reiner Braun in three years now. So what was it then? Was it to rattle him? Unsettle him? If that was the case, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

He couldn’t afford to lose now. He couldn’t afford to so much as get hurt.

Mikasa was watching, after all.

He’d thought, the night before as he held her in his arms, his face pressed in the crook of her neck as she slept deeply and peacefully, that he might not fall asleep at all. His desire knotted in his stomach, as he thought it would, but the softness of her skin, the sweet flowery scent of her hair, and the warmth of her against him made him feel like he’d come home. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep right with her. He didn’t think he’d slept so well in months.

That was how he always wanted to see her from now on, her face serene as she lay next to him. The stark contrast from the look of her, sick with worry, brow knit in concern for him, made him want to never let anything make her look that way again. Even if it was _him._ No, _especially_ if it was him.

The announcer called his name with a dramatic flourish he could never resist, the “Jaeger” echoing through the halls as it always did, and Eren allowed himself a beat or two before nodding to Levi and striding out into the spotlight. The lights were nearly blinding for a moment from the dimness in the waiting corridor, but he was used to it by now. As he walked down the aisle towards the ring, he kept his eyes fixed to the octagon - except for one moment when he walked in, letting his eyes drift the stands to try and find Mikasa there. He caught her eye and she gave him a small, nervous, but hopeful smile.

That was good enough.

They called Galliard into the ring and he walked out, his stride more sure-footed than Eren’s was, in any case. It probably came with the immaculate record, his brother’s legacy, and his legion of fans chanting his name as he approached. He was different from how Eren remembered him from yesterday; was it because Reiner had been next to him then that he looked so much smaller now? Were his nerves, then, because of Reiner, too, more because the other man knew his weaknesses and not because Galliard himself did?

He got it now, he thought, fixing his purpose. What Levi said yesterday. Reiner was not his enemy, not now, not in this ring. Today, Porco Galliard was all alone with him in the ring, and that, Eren could point his anger at.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the match. Eren took his stance, and Galliard took his, much lower than Eren’s, ending only a couple feet off the mat. This much, Eren had anticipated. The other man was trained in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, which meant he was going to want to keep this fight on the ground. That was where they excelled, jiu-jitsu fighters: once they had you pinned, that was when you were in trouble. Eren and Galliard watched each other, wary, and he knew well that that calculated stare was assessing his every move.

Galliard reached out for him, trying to swipe at him and take him down, but it was an easy enough move to read. He dodged it, stepping back but keeping his guard up. He knew that Galliard was merely testing the waters, seeing how he would react. They were both in uncharted territory; perhaps Eren was, more than Galliard, who had racked up enough wins by now to very nearly make it to the professional leagues. Eren still had a while to go yet.

But he wasn’t that reckless kid anymore. He wasn’t the same guy who, a year ago, had shirked off his friends’ advice and just ran headfirst into whatever opponent would take him. Now, he was smart. He watched and waited for Galliard to leave an opening.

Eren reached out with both hands, and Galliard reached out, too, until they were both holding each other’s forearms, each trying to find leverage. Galliard was strong, that much he could tell from the pressure the other man was putting on him. So it seemed that the guy wasn’t _all_ hype. He felt himself be pushed back a little by sheer strength, and instead of fighting it, Eren took a step backward.

Galliard smirked, probably having noticed that he had forced Eren back by little more than sheer force of will, and tried his luck further, pushing him back even more until he was nearly against the fence. A long drawn out game while they were both standing was not in Galliard’s favor; Eren knew that pretty soon, he was going to try and force him into the mat. He couldn’t let that happen. He pushed down the irritation that brewed inside him from that smug look on Galliard’s face. Now was not the time.

Using his arms, still on Galliard’s, for purchase, he lifted his knee to the other man’s midsection. Galliard saw the move coming too late: he hastily disentangled his arms from Eren’s and only barely blocked the kick. He still took the brunt of the damage, though, and he staggered back with a moment’s disorientation.

Eren smiled. Now _this_ was something Reiner couldn’t have possibly told him.

He took advantage of his opponent’s moment of weakness and swung at him, letting the punches rain on him and keeping his guard up. Galliard, on his part, kept his arms up over his face, trying to keep the impact to a minimum. It was all he could do for now as he waited for Eren to let up, which he wasn’t planning to do in the least.

Galliard had been expecting a ground game, full of grappling and submissions - but Eren didn’t want that. He knew enough about the other man and his reputation to know that that was where he won his fights. He was going to stay off the ground as much as he could, buy himself some time and wear Galliard out. As long as the other man couldn’t take him down, he was safe for the time being.

He spoke too soon. In between his punches, Galliard snuck in, dodging a right hook and charging at him with his shoulder to Eren’s midsection. The impact was just enough to send him to the floor with his back to the mat. There was a grin in Galliard’s eyes as he took the opportunity greedily, pinning him down by the shoulders and locking Eren’s arm between his legs.

Eren felt a familiar panic rush up in him, a remnant of his judo days. Back in tournaments, when you were pinned, you had about twenty-five seconds to get out of it before you lose. He felt the pain shoot up his left arm and struggled to free himself. Each throb down the length of his arm was a ticking time bomb and he knew it. The intense, nearly manic look on Galliard’s face made it seem as though he was in a hurry to end it, as well. Clearly, Eren had proved to be more of a challenge than he had expected.

He planned to be an even bigger one.

In a swift motion, Eren used the arm that Galliard was holding down, pushing him back. It caught Galliard off-guard, the alarm clear in his eyes, and that was the opening that Eren needed. He kicked, his priority getting his back off of the mat. His opponent’s grip on his shoulders slackened for a few seconds, giving him the time to clamber off of the ground and on to his feet. Galliard got to his feet as well, a second or two after him, and the look in his eyes told him that this was dragging on for far too long already. Eren couldn’t help but agree.

Galliard continued to crouch, trying to force another opening as he did the first time, but Eren was ready for that now. In his mind, the memory of one summer morning came back to him: that day he volunteered to demo that move with Mikasa, that day she tried to kiss him in the street but ended up nearly breaking both their noses in the attempt. He reached out for Galliard, putting one hand on his shoulder and another on his arm, making him come up to meet him standing. With two swift turns, his back was against Galliard’s chest as he knocked the other man’s leg off-balance. He used the momentum to pull Galliard by the arm over his shoulder and onto the mat.

Not wanting to lose the advantage, Eren came up behind him and slid his arm under Galliard’s neck, keeping his trachea in the crook of his elbow. With his other arm, he pushed the back of Galliard’s neck. The other man struggled, well aware that if he couldn’t get out of the chokehold he was done for, but tapping out didn’t seem to be an option, either. Eren struggled to keep the pressure on, aware that his own strength was quickly running out. Galliard had proven to be more trouble than he thought, and he found he was eager to end this here and now.

He was vaguely aware of the hush coming over the crowd as the referee approached to check on his opponent. He was gesturing to a still-struggling Galliard, asking if he was going to tap out, to which Galliard obstinately shook his head: _no, no, never._ Eren nearly marveled at his willpower. At his devastating first match, too, Eren preferred the knockout to giving up.

Galliard stopped struggling, and the referee motioned for him to let go. He did, still not quite grasping what was happening. The ref checked on Galliard, declared him knocked out, and the bell ending the match was rung. He thought that bell echoed in his ears for minutes after it ended. He looked out onto the crowd, the crowd that had come here _precisely_ to see Galliard beat him up, and felt an odd surge of triumph well up in his chest. After a minute of what seemed like awed silence, the audience clapped and cheered, amazed that this crazy little upstart had knocked out one of the most promising names in the amateur circle.

And from the front row, for what was probably the first time in her life, Mikasa was the loudest out of all of them.

-o-

The minute that they ushered Eren out of the ring, Mikasa got up out of her seat and scrambled to follow. She mumbled her “excuse me”s and “sorry”s as she pushed her way through the throng, ignoring the dirty looks she was receiving. She didn’t care about any of that right now. She could still hear her heart pounding in her ears, the adrenaline of watching the match still rushing through her veins. She had spent part of it with her eyes closed, she had to admit; she was that worried when Galliard had Eren pinned to the mat. She had almost needed to physically restrain herself from standing up in indignation and getting in the ring herself.

The sound of her heels echoed through the mostly empty hallway behind the arena as she made her way toward the locker rooms. She wondered briefly where Eren’s was, but she didn’t have to wonder long. There, standing outside a door, hesitant, his closed fist hanging in the air as if to knock, was Reiner Braun. He seemed to think better of knocking, though, because he shook his head, perhaps shaking his thoughts away, and turned to leave. When he did, his eyes met hers in recognition.

“Mikasa,” he greeted, the look on his face one of agitation. “Long time no see.”

The look on Mikasa’s face hardened as she remembered what Eren told her last night. “Reiner,” she said, nodding, her guard up as though this was a fight of her own. “What are you doing here?”

Reiner looked sheepish. “Thought I’d congratulate him, but he didn’t take too kindly to seeing me today, so it might be a bad idea.”

“It is,” she replied bluntly.

He laughed, both amused and sad at the same time. “You really haven’t changed a bit, have you? Still as overprotective as ever,” he pointed out, without a bit of malice. If anything, there was something friendly and affectionate about the question. For a moment, Mikasa wavered, the years of friendship between them making her stop and look up at him. It had only been three years since they last spoke, but he seemed so much older now, for some reason. No, maybe there was just something so much _sadder_ about him now, that it seeped into the lines on his face and seemed to age him.

“He hasn’t forgiven you, you know,” she told him quietly, the edge in her voice a little softer now.

Reiner nodded. “I could tell.”

Mikasa sighed then, a hint of regret in her voice. “If you wanted to apologize…” she started, thinking about her own fight with Eren not too long ago. That knowledge that she had told him something she shouldn’t have, that she had wanted nothing more than to stop him from chasing his dreams, that she had spoken the unutterable: all that had balled up inside her chest in a tangled mess of guilt and shame. If it was the same for him, she didn’t blame Reiner for wanting to untangle it even years after the fact. A grudge between people who had once known each other all too well was a heavy burden for everyone involved. “Forgiveness is a two-way street. He has to come around first.”

“Don’t I know it,” he answered somberly. “I just didn’t want to have to face him in the ring before that happens.”

She looked up at him then, alarmed. “Do you think you will?”

He shrugged noncommittally, but Mikasa knew that there was more meaning behind it than he let on. “He just beat one of the biggest names in our amateur circle. He’s only going to fight bigger and bigger opponents from here. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get matched up sooner rather than later,” he replied, almost matter-of-factly. He looked over at her, his tone softening the slightest bit as he added, uncertainly, “I thought you’d try to stop him. Before he went into this. It’s not the most forgiving career path there is.”

“I tried,” she answered. “It didn’t work.”

He chuckled at that, as though he wasn’t surprised. “Figures.” Shaking his head, he said, “I better go. It was nice chatting with you, Mikasa.”

“You too,” she said weakly, unsure now how she ought to feel. She’d been carried away by Eren’s anger, but it seemed that the Reiner before her was not the same one who had willingly gave up on his friendship in order to succeed. Not a traitor, like they thought, but someone deeply guilty over what he had done. She couldn’t seem to find it in her to blame him.

“Oh, by the way, Mikasa,” Reiner called out from behind her, “Are you two…?”

She looked at him, puzzled.

He laughed. “Did you two start dating?” he clarified.

Mikasa felt her whole face heat up, then, embarrassed that such a thing was a topic of interest to someone they hadn’t even spoken to in three years. “… Yeah,” she mumbled in response.

Reiner smiled at that. “Good to know he’s got you in his corner, then,” he said, before finally turning around and walking away.

-o-

There was little that wasn’t downright intimidating about Erwin Smith, and that was something Eren noticed within two minutes of knowing him. The man was tall, imposing even, though whether that was because of his height or because of his aura was a matter of debate. His eyes looked like they could catch anything, watchful and observant. Levi had introduced him as the potential sponsor, the one who had brokered the match between him and Galliard just now.

He was built like a fighter himself, and had been, once: some fifteen or so years ago, Erwin Smith had been a professional. No, maybe it was more appropriate to say that he had been a _legend._ Fighters still mentioned his name years after he retired just to marvel at how precise his techniques were, how skilled he was at pinpointing his opponents’ weaknesses.

“Good to finally meet you, Eren,” Erwin said with a smile, holding out his hand for him to shake. Eren took it. The man’s handshake was firm and businesslike. Not a lot about him felt warm or welcoming, but Levi seemed to trust him, and that was enough for him to want to do so, as well. “You did well. Much better than I expected, even. I didn’t think you would actually knock out the state’s MMA wunderkind but it seems we all underestimated you.” The man’s smile was tight-lipped but sincere. “So I’ve come to congratulate you and formally offer you my sponsorship.”

Eren couldn’t keep the grin off his face. It took every effort not to punch the air in excitement. Was this really happening? “Thank you!” he said, beaming, “You won’t regret it!”

Erwin nodded, seemingly amused at Eren’s enthusiasm. “I trust I won’t,” he replied. Turning to Levi, he added, “I think Eren would benefit from coming to the training camp at my gym this fall. Two or three months of intensive training, and then maybe we could find him his next fight.”

Levi looked at Eren, then, putting the question to him. “So, how about it, Eren? You’d have to move to the city for the rest of the season, but you’ll be in good hands.”

“I’ll do it,” Eren answered, hardly needing a moment to think about it. This was it. His foot in the door. This was all he ever wanted. There was no need to spend a minute longer debating on it.

Erwin smiled at his eagerness. “Decisive. A good trait for a fighter to have,” he commended, patting him on the shoulder. Tilting his head to Levi, he added, “You’re welcome to come, too, Levi. I wouldn’t dream of separating him from his coach, and the guys at the gym would be too pleased to have you around.”

Levi smirked at the offer. “Unlike this brat, I’m not one to jump into things without looking,” he deadpanned. “I’ll make some calls and let you know.”

The other man didn’t seem put off by Levi’s pseudo-rejection; if anything, he only seemed more amused by it. “All right then, I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said with a nod before turning to leave. The door clicked shut behind him.

When Eren was sure he was gone, he turned to his coach with a scornful look. “You didn’t think to tell me that my mystery sponsor and your _old friend_ was an MMA legend?”

Levi shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

He was about to say something in retaliation when the door opened once more. He looked up and caught sight of Mikasa, giving him a tiny wave as she approached. “Eren. Levi,” she said by way of greeting. She stopped just next to him, saying, “You were great out there.”

Unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her tightly and lifted her up off the floor. Her eyes widened in not unpleasant surprise as she clung to his shoulders for balance. Once again, for the first time since last night, he had the strangest feeling that she belonged there, in his arms, and that there had to be a reason it felt so damn _right._ “I did it!” he said, bursting out laughing. “I got the sponsorship, Mikasa!” He couldn’t keep in the good news when she was around. For some reason, she was the first person he wanted to tell.

“What? That’s great news!” she exclaimed, hugging him back. Her arms clasped tightly around him in elation, and he wondered how he had been able to go so many months without her next to him. How was it possible? Now that it was happening, he couldn’t imagine any other alternative.

Next to them, Levi rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave you brats to celebrate.”

Eren bit back a smile, but was thankful to Levi for it - almost enough to forgive him for walking in on them that summer day in the gym. As his coach walked out of the locker room, he looked back at Mikasa, who seemed to be deep in thought. Her dark hair fell into her eyes, which were staring right through him, clearly further away than he first thought. Lightly, he reached out and brushed her hair back out of her face, stunning her out of her reverie. “You okay?” he asked gently.

She gave him a small, hesitant smile. “Yeah. I was just… thinking.”

“Did I worry you again?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, defensive, far too quickly for it to be the truth. When he nearly laughed at how abrupt her answer was, she added, almost guiltily, “Yes.”

Eren frowned at that. “Sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead, a promise he would try to keep. “Tell me how I could make it up to you.”

She was quiet for a while, as though she was considering his offer. Then, to his surprise, she echoed to him the same question he’d asked her yesterday in jest. “Then… will you stay with me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, almost as though she had been afraid to ask it. The meaning of her words was not lost on him, and as he looked into her wide, teasing eyes, all he could think was about how she just didn’t play fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Write what you know' they said, so I went and picked MMA and judo which I know nothing about, which means I'm watching so many matches and instructional videos on YouTube for reference every week. Yes, I'm an absolute clown. Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who's kept up this far! If you're looking for fic recs, allow me to direct you to polariiis' Bad Romance here on AO3; please go and pester her to make this a multi-chapter.


	10. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa tries to convince Eren he is worthy of love. (Non-graphic smut warning for this chapter.)

Mikasa didn’t know what had gotten into her.

Curiously, she studied Eren’s back as she followed him quietly down the hotel corridor. The words _“I wish I hadn’t spoken,”_ hung in the air, but she didn’t want to say them. She didn’t regret asking, not really, because it was the truth: she had wanted him to stay, wanted _them_ to stay together just like the night before. But saying those words out loud had left her exposed in a way she wasn’t used to being. Her gaze traced the lines of his broad back, his wide shoulders, the curve of his arm, his open hand. She reached out, suddenly seized by the need to touch him, to close the distance between them in any way she could.

Was he thinking the same thing? It seemed improbable, but he looked back at her that very moment, making her draw her hand back with the realization of what she was about to do. She felt chastised for being too forward, embarrassed that she had let herself want something - want _him -_ so badly that she almost went for it. And Eren smiled, amused, and grabbed her hand anyway.

Ever since she was younger, even just _admitting_ to wanting something terrified her. The people all around her had paid dearly for the things they loved. She remembered Levi, paralyzed on a hospital bed, bandages covering nearly all of him, paying the price for his passions in an accident he had not deserved in the least. She remembered Eren, the first time, his fists bruised and bloody as he learned of the disqualification that forced him out of judo years ago. She remembered him, the second time, lying face-down on the mat of the octagon, unconscious. There were few things she knew for certain, but one of them was this: desire was a punishable offense.

So she shut it all up inside. She would not ask for a thing she could not pay for.

But something had changed over the summer, and the fear and trepidation and anticipation and ecstasy welled up inside her until she thought she might burst. It was Eren. It was all Eren’s doing, his smile, his kindness, his reckless courage, that made her want to take the leap for once. It was because it was him that she took him by the collar that day and brought his lips to hers, no matter how badly she had failed that first time. And it was because it was him that she told him, for a moment quite fearless herself, that she wanted him close to her.

Her hand warmed in his as he fumbled one-handed for his hotel room key. She let go to help him out, but her hand tingled from the loss of contact. The door swung open and she followed him in, both of them quiet and nervous. She felt around the wall for the light switch, and the lights came on with a click - the only sound in the room apart from her racing heart. As the warm light washed over him, Eren seemed to look away in embarrassment, and she was almost surprised to find that the flush on his cheeks was not just a trick of the light.

Tentatively, she reached up to his face, the light having revealed bruises she didn’t see there earlier in the day. “You’re hurt,” she said, frowning, as she inspected the marks his fight had left behind. Her fingers grazed his brow, his cheek, his jaw, before they hovered for the slightest moment above his lips. She stood there, pausing, nearly mesmerized by how _beautiful_ he was. His green eyes, his perfect jaw, the serious downturn of his lips. She committed it all to memory, this moment, as though staring longer would ensure that she wouldn’t forget a single detail.

“I’m fine,” Eren answered defensively, the way he always used to do when she fussed over him after a match. _Some things never changed_ was the theme of the exchange, and yet, something had already irreversibly changed between them. His hand took hers, the one hovering by his lips, and he pressed a kiss to her knuckle. She felt a thrill run up her spine from the contact.

Her eyes held his for a long time, and she thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. More surely now, she traced the outline of his lips with her thumb, her gaze following along as she did so. “Yesterday…” she started to say, softly, “Why didn’t we…” her voice trailed off, suddenly shy, suddenly fully aware of just what she was asking.

Eren laughed, actually laughed, until his shoulders shook with mirth. “Sorry,” he said, not at all apologetic. If anything, the teasing glint had returned to his eyes as he murmured his response, his mouth softly moving against the pad of her thumb, which still rested on his full bottom lip. “Did I disappoint you?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re teasing me,” she said, pointing out the obvious. She didn’t dislike it, but there was a sense of urgency she wasn’t familiar with making her want things to move a little bit faster.

“Look at that, you’re not as dense as you used to be,” he remarked, still amused. He reached up and entwined his fingers in hers, his gaze still fixed on her as he added, his voice low: “I wanted to, Mikasa. But you looked scared, and the last thing I want to do is push you to do something you’re not ready for. If we do anything, I want it to be because you want me.”

She didn’t think she’d ever heard him so sincere. Mikasa’s heart ached for him, remembering her mother’s warning. _Be careful,_ she had cautioned, _You could cut yourself on those rough edges._ And the look in his eyes told her he was aware of it, too: the fact that she loved him so much it made her vulnerable, made him the one who could hurt her the most. “I want you,” she assured him, gently, her smile sad but sweet. She pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, just for good measure, and said again, “I want you.”

Eren’s face faltered with disbelief, as though he had been prepared to have his heart broken by her right then and there. Had he thought he didn’t deserve to be wanted? Had he thought he’d hurt her too much to be worthy of it? He looked at her, unmoving, the lost look still in his eyes as he seemed to search her face for a sign that she was serious. For a moment, she thought she saw the Eren she first met all those years ago, bruised and beaten but putting on a brave face, and it made her smile up at him in the same way she always had: with unwavering love and devotion.

Then, he reached out, his hands cupping her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, to her eyelids, to the scar on her cheek, to touch a little bit longer to her lips. And then again. And again, and again. Each time more insistent and fevered than the last. He led her backward, step by step, until he had her pinned to the wall. He pulled away for a moment, his eyes dark and half-lidded, desire mingling with something else - tenderness? Affection? - and she felt a tug at her heart. More than wanting him to touch her, she wanted to be what he needed right now: a reminder that he was forgiven, that he was loved.

He leaned in again, his breath hot, his mouth warm as it moved against hers. Then, it trailed down, tracing a line from her jawline to her neck. She heard, more than felt, a gasp leave her lips as Eren’s teeth closed on the soft skin above her collarbone. He must have heard it too, because he looked up at her, a mischievous look in his eyes and a lopsided grin on his lips. He was clearly pleased with himself, judging from that shit-eating expression on his face.

She bit her lip. Two could play at that game.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him back up to her face as she kissed him hungrily on the mouth. One hand reached up, entangling in his hair, undoing his little bun, and making his brown hair tumble down to his shoulders. He laughed once more, probably at her sudden show of boldness. Stubborn and eager to make him stop laughing at her, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit gently, making the chuckle in his throat melt into a sound that was half a sigh, half a whimper.

It was her turn to grin.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, spurred on by her eagerness. He wrapped her legs around his waist and half-carried her, nearly stumbling into the bed as they both tumbled into the sheets. They both laughed at the ridiculousness of it, their little bloopers, because they were both fumbling around, equally inexperienced and clumsy, both just relishing the newness of it and that they were experiencing it with each other.

A wide smile, the remains of Eren’s laughter, was still on his face, and Mikasa couldn’t help but reach up and brush his long hair back, tucking it gently behind his ear. “Weren’t you the one who told me to cut my hair?” she asked him, half-teasing, half-scolding, but all fondness. “What was it you said? ‘It’d get in your face while you’re fighting, Mikasa.’ And look at you now.”

He smirked. “Oh, please,” he breathed, “If I’d taken my own advice, we wouldn’t be here now.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, lazily tracing circles on the back of his neck where her hand had roamed. “Yeah?” she asked, her fingers dipping lower, to his nape, which elicited a shudder from him. “Against your better judgment, is it?”

He blushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “That’s not what I…” he began, frustrated. “Has anyone told you that you don’t play fair?”

Before she could come up with a reply, he leaned in once more, silencing her with a slow, languid kiss that was reason enough for her to stop talking. She was keenly aware of Eren’s hands roaming her body, exploring, testing, until they tugged at the hem of her shirt, pulling it free from where it was tucked into her jeans. He lifted her up to pull her shirt off all the way, and his shirt soon ended up in a heap next to it on the floor.

She’d seen him with his shirt off several times now, of course, during matches and when he was sparring, but for some reason seeing him up close still made her blush. She couldn’t help but run a hand over his collarbones, his chest, his shoulders. The attention seemed to fluster and provoke him all at the same time, because he responded by grabbing hold of her wrists and planting soft, butterfly kisses down the column of her neck and on her chest. His fingers fumbled as he tried to undo her bra, and so he pushed it up instead to gain access. Mikasa would have giggled at his impatience if his hands and mouth on her breasts didn’t render her incapable of anything other than a sigh of pleasure.

She reached around and unhooked her bra for him, tossing it carelessly in the same pile where their shirts had gone. He murmured his approval into the soft skin of her shoulder, where his lips and teeth were taking turns. She let her own hands roam his body, down the hard planes of his chest, to the abs that were a result of his training, until she let her fingers hook into the waistband of his pants. She snapped the button open and tugged them off. Not to be outdone, Eren’s hands reached to undress her as well.

There was a pause as they looked at each other, stripped down to their underwear, and for a moment Mikasa wanted to stop to turn the lights off. But she couldn’t. She was too spellbound, too caught up in the moment, and instead of her shyness coming back to give her pause she fought it down. She reached up and put her hands behind Eren’s neck, drawing him back down for a heated kiss. All she wanted now was to close the distance between them, to make sure there was as little space as possible keeping them apart.

She felt his hands skim even lower until they rested on her thighs. She shuddered involuntarily in anticipation, even before his thumbs hooked onto the sides of her panties and brought them down. His eyes flicked up to meet hers for a brief moment, as though asking permission. When she didn’t say no, he touched her there, gently at first, his eyes fixed on her as though he didn’t want to miss a single emotion that passed across her face. And there were many: surprise, discomfort, pleasure, until she didn’t know where one ended and the other began. Emboldened, he slid one finger into her, making her breath catch in her throat.

His name was a litany on her lips as he picked up the rhythm, sending her head into a daze. She had never felt like this before, so desperately clinging to her control, to her voice that seemed desperate to come out. It felt as though something was building up inside her, as though anticipation itself had taken a tangible form. Her fingernails pressed into his back like holding on to him would keep her sane. Her other hand held him close to her, her own mouth by his ear as she whispered his name over and over like an unanswered prayer.

She was vaguely aware of him reaching into the drawer of his bedside table, fumbling for a condom. She could hardly believe this was happening. It all seemed surreal, as though their distance and his absence from a few months ago were further away. She remembered thinking, then, that she might never see him again, that she had to prepare her heart for the possibility that the distance between them was only going to grow until they became strangers once more. And yet, here he was now, warm to the touch, real and _present._ She could scarcely believe it but believed it anyway.

He entered her, slowly, both of them gasping at the contact. Their fingers were entwined on either side of her head, hanging on to each other for dear life. He felt hot, scorching hot and fully inside her, and the kisses he was trailing down the side of her face and on her neck left little fires in their wake. He started to move, tentatively at first, cautiously, like he was afraid he would break her. It was his turn to say her name, over and over, as caution gave into passion and they were both quickly unraveling at each other’s hands.

“Mikasa,” he whispered, an unspoken plea on his lips and in his eyes. For the life of her, she had no idea what he was asking for, but she knew with every fiber of her being that she wanted to give it to him, no matter what it was. She reached up and ran a hand through his hair, gently, tenderly, but the action seemed to spur him further as he picked up his pace. Her hand closed into a fist in his hair as she strung curses under her breath that she never would have spoken otherwise.

“Eren… I’m…” she breathed, but words failed her. _Close,_ she wanted to say, _I’m on a cliff and I’m about to fall._ But she could hardly string two words together. He seemed to understand her anyway, because he smiled, that same shit-eating grin he’d worn earlier when he’d gotten the best of her, and though it irked her to no end to see him look so fucking triumphant, he was right. It was him that brought her here and if he wanted to take credit, it was well-deserved.

They held each other close as they came undone together, spent but content in each other’s arms. For a long time, neither of them spoke, and the only sound in the room was their soft breathing in time with the other. She lay in the crook of Eren’s arm, his fingers lazily running through her hair. Her own hand lay against his chest, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow down. She closed her eyes, feeling somehow like she’d come home.

-o-

The sunlight spilling in through the window woke him. His eyes fluttered open, heavy and reluctant, as though he were waking from a good dream. He tried to chase the edges of that dream, wondering exactly what it was he was trying not to wake from, when he felt a weight on his arm. He looked over and saw Mikasa sleeping there, her face peaceful and serene. Memories of the night before flooded back to him and he remembered that it hadn’t been a dream after all.

It had felt like one, though. After nearly a year of pining after someone whom he thought he had lost forever, here she was, right next to him, sleeping soundly. He took the sight of her in: her adorably mussed hair, falling over her eyes; her petal-soft skin almost glistening in the dawn light; the swell of her chest rising and falling with her breathing.

And he thought, _what a sight to wake up to._

Eren reached out and brushed her hair gently away from her face. He’d hoped not to wake her, but she’d always been a light sleeper. As soon as she felt it, her gray eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him. “Morning,” she said, stifling a yawn, “You’re up early.”

“Morning,” he mumbled back, leaning back into her. He didn’t quite want to get up just yet.

She obliged him, letting him curl up next to her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Neither of them had bothered getting dressed last night, but gone was the tentative shyness that seemed to mark the night before. The silence between them was comfortable. She rested her chin on the top of his head, while he pressed his face to chest, breathing her in. He let her thread her fingers through his hair and murmured something in contentment.

“Hmm?” she asked, pulling away to look down at him. “Did you say something?”

He scowled a bit in displeasure at the loss of contact, stubbornly pulling her back in. “Just… stay like this for a little longer, please,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes resolutely, pretending that the sun wasn’t coming up, that he wouldn’t have to leave the city again for a couple weeks while he and Levi packed up and got their things together. It was funny, how he’d gone a long time on his own, thinking he needed no one, and how quickly he had come to realize how completely wrong he was.

Mikasa seemed to know just what he was thinking, because she said quietly, “What time are you and Levi heading back?”

“We check out at ten.”

She hummed in response, her hand still gently going through his hair. He wondered what she was thinking, having had to watch him fight yesterday and assure him, hours later, that she wanted him, wanted _this_ , despite all of that. He wasn’t blind; he knew that every moment he spent in the ring was a moment she feared for him. There was always the risk he could get very badly hurt. He thought of Marcel Galliard, young and in his prime, dying from an accident in the octagon. He thought of how easily that could have been him - how easily it could still _be_ him.

The thought had crossed his mind that maybe Mikasa would be happier with someone who didn’t constantly put himself in danger. That maybe her heart would rest easier knowing that its other half was perfectly safe. But he was just selfish like that, he guessed.

“I love you,” he said, his face still pressed against her skin.

Her hand in his hair stopped in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting to hear those words out of him. She wasn’t alone, if he were being honest. Eren had been slow to warm to the words. Ever since he was younger, since he found out about his father’s first family, he wondered if it was something he could believe in. He thought of his dad and Zeke’s mom, who must have loved each other once but never spoke. As far as he was concerned, love was never a sure thing: just as likely to hurt you as it was to help you.

But if anything was a sure thing to him now, it was this.

He looked up at her, hopefully, and saw with some amusement that her whole face had gone red. Apparently there were still some things he could do to make her embarrassed, after all. “I…” she started to stammer shyly, struggling to get the words out. “I… uh…”

He smiled at that, and instead of waiting for an answer, he covered her mouth with his, taking it in another slow, sweet kiss. “I know,” he said with a grin, resting his forehead against hers. It was all right. For now, he could think of much better things to do with the three hours they had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so let me tell you: this was the hardest chapter I've had to write so far, mostly because I've never written smut of any degree before. So I have the lovely Nini (polariiis) to thank for listening to my smut-writing misadventures, and the amazing Sharinganblossoms on AO3 to thank because I reread a couple of her E-rated works to try and shamelessly take inspiration from them, before I laughed at myself and started yelling "SMUT WRITING IS A SKILL THAT I DO NOT HAVE!" to anyone who would listen. So, yes, any feedback would be helpful and much appreciated. Hope you guys had a good holiday and have a happy new year!


	11. New Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren begins his training camp, while Mikasa begins her physical therapy. Both of them deal with their own blast from the past.

Two weeks passed, and they had somehow managed to be the longest and shortest weeks of his life. He would be in the city for months and had decided to give up his lease at the poor excuse for an apartment he kept to be closer to the gym, which meant that he had, for a bit over a week, taken up residence back in his old room at his parents’ house.

Being back in the house was strange, after a year of independence. His mom fussed over him as usual, telling him it was high time he came home and attempted to ply him with his favorite food so he would promise not to move out again the moment his training camp was over. His dad had stopped pestering him about going to college, thankfully, because Eren really wasn’t in the mood to be butting heads with him over this for the nth time. But with the lack of pestering came a heavy, nearly unbearable tension that usually preceded their fights.

So he spent most of his short vacation in his room. His parents had hardly moved a thing, so the place felt a bit like a time capsule. A piece of last year, frozen, unchanged. His bed, a couple inches too short for him now, where he, Mikasa, and Armin had spent countless sleepovers and movie nights since they were children. His pop-punk band posters plastered on his wall, some of which were dog-eared and coming unstuck. His television and Playstation, both of which were now gathering dust. His small shelf of judo trophies, a line of silvers and a gold or two. It was this shelf he approached, letting his fingers trail across the engravings.

 _First place, second place,_ he read off the tiles. _Eren Jaeger._ The trophies went all the way up to his third year in high school and had stopped abruptly, an empty space on the edge of the shelf the reminder of what happened that year.

He could still remember with painful clarity the way his opponent had egged him on, called him a weakling, called him nothing, worse than nothing. He remembered how his blood seemed to boil in his veins and he knew it was wrong, knew it was only going to get him in trouble. He remembered the swing of his fists, the referee calling the foul, and the anger pounding in his head until he could hardly hear anything else over the sound. They had to pry him off of his opponent, whose face was beaten and bloody.

Only then did he look down at his hands, the knuckles bruised and bleeding themselves.

“Unsportsmanlike behavior?” Levi had asked incredulously when the officials had called them in after the match. Eren had felt the panic in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m afraid so,” the official replied, stoic and unsympathetic, as he cast a sidelong glance to Eren next to him. “The player violated the rules. No intentional harm must be done to the opponent. Even worse, when the referee signaled that he stop, he ignored him as well. The Federation cannot just turn a blind eye, no matter how highly esteemed you are as a coach and player yourself, Mr. Ackerman.”

His coach turned to look at him, his face impassive. “Still, a lifetime disqualification is…”

Eren couldn’t look him in the eye. Next to him, Mikasa gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Is there any way to appeal this? It’s his first offense,” she asked, no doubt trying to be helpful. But her protectiveness of him felt undeserved. He had shrugged her hand off his shoulder and refused to even look at her, far too angry with himself to do so. Listening to Levi and Mikasa come to his aid when he couldn’t so much as do the bare minimum expected of him stung like nothing else.

Mikasa withdrew her hand from his shoulder without another word. She had been used to it, then. In front of her, the official shook his head solemnly. “I’m very sorry, Miss Ackerman, but the federation’s decision is final. Mr. Jaeger may no longer compete in this tournament or any tournament hosted by the organization.”

He remembered that flash of white-hot anger making him come to his feet again. He stormed out of the room, knowing fully well that if he stayed any longer he might say something he might regret: to the official, to Levi, to Mikasa - and he didn’t want that. He knew exactly where to point his rage and it wasn’t at them.

Eren closed his eyes and sighed, trying to shake the memory from his head. But despite his best effort, he kept hearing a voice whispering, “Do you know what Reiner said?”insidiously. “He said to just get you good and angry and you wouldn’t be able to think straight.”

And, without fail, he kept seeing Reiner’s downcast eyes as he mumbled, “It’s nothing personal, Eren.”

Just then, the door to his room opened, and he looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway. “Eren?” she said softly. These days it felt like his mother was walking on eggshells around him, even if Carla Jaeger had never been careful about him before. Since his injury - no, maybe even as early as Reiner’s betrayal of him - he had started closing himself off to everyone. His mother was no exception.

“Mom,” he answered. It wasn’t much of a response, but she seemed to hear something in his voice that made her want to come closer. She shut the door behind her as she walked up to him, her eyes following his own gaze to the trophies on the shelves. She smiled sadly, but said nothing, instead picking up a framed photograph next to the shelf.

“Oh, look,” she said, lifting it up for him to see. In the picture, he and Mikasa at ten years old stood brandishing their medals - Mikasa’s gold and his silver. He had a scowl on his face, like he always seemed to in pictures from his childhood. “Angry kid, this one,” his mother observed, amused, as she tapped her finger to the image of his pouty, ten-year-old face. “You’re lucky Mikasa is always so patient with you.”

The look on Eren’s face softened. “Yeah,” he replied, “I know.”

There was a tenderness in his voice that his mother probably wasn’t used to hearing from him, because she raised an eyebrow up at him warily. With a sixth sense he should have known his mother would have, she asked him, her tone pretty much a loaded gun: “How _is_ Mikasa, by the way?”

His mother was baiting him and he knew it, but he flushed nonetheless, feeling the panic bubble up in him as he glanced over at her. The look on her face was knowing and smug, and he resisted the urge to complain about it, just because he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Instead, he looked away, mumbling, “She’s fine.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, as though whatever suspicions she had were confirmed now. He really should have known better than to think he could get one over his own mother, but she was never going to let this go now and he knew it. She didn’t take her eyes off him, and he felt like withering under her scrutiny. “I thought you two seemed awfully close this summer. I was just happy that you made up, but if there’s something else, then that’s news to me.”

He squirmed uncomfortably. Of all the things he thought he’d have to face when he came home, he didn’t think getting interrogated by his own mother was going to be on that list. He was only thankful that nobody else got to witness this. “Mom, okay, fine,” he said finally, nearly a hundred percent sure he was red all the way to his ears. “We’re dating, okay?”

His mother looked elated. “I knew it!” she said triumphantly. “When did this happen? Over the summer? No, you seemed close then already. Then when you went to the city for your fight? Oh, Eren, sweetie, I didn’t know you had it in you but I’m glad…”

“Mom, please, stop!” he said exasperatedly.

She giggled at that. “I’m sorry, can’t your mom be happy for you?” she asked. Looking up at him, the mirth still in her eyes, she said, softly, “Your father and I… well, we don’t tell you this, because you’re all grown up now, but we still get worried about you, Eren. When you decided to forego college and do your own thing… we wondered if we let you have a bit too much freedom. And it felt like you were slipping away from us, you know? We hardly even saw you anymore, and you were still in town then. You’d cut ties with Mikasa and Armin, too. We were worried that maybe you were all alone.”

Eren frowned. That year had been hard on him, yes: he had suffered a crushing defeat, his first one since getting kicked out of the Federation, and had closed himself up out of anyone’s reach. He felt angry that his way back to pursuing his dream had been met with only more frustration. And he took that frustration out on everyone around him, whether he wanted to or not. He pushed away his parents, pushed away his friends, tried to become as reliant as he could on himself, but none of it worked.

“I’m sorry, mom,” he said finally, reaching out to wrap his mother in a hug.

She seemed caught off-guard by the gesture, and he didn’t blame her. They hadn’t hugged in… a while. Still, she patted him on the back affectionately. “It’s all right, Eren. You know I love you no matter what,” she said soothingly, “But I’m happy that you seem to be getting better. And if Mikasa has a hand in it, then I have a lot to thank her for.”

“Yeah,” he answered. He did, too - have a lot to be thankful to Mikasa for, that is. He almost didn’t realize just how quickly thoughts of her had banished his own personal demons. He smiled at the thought. Patting his mother on the back, he added, “I’ll visit more often, I promise.”

That made his mom smile. “Bring your girlfriend over for dinner when you do,” she teased.

Eren groaned.

After two weeks passed, Levi told him to start packing up. It meant, at least, that he had something else to occupy him besides the particular blast from the past that the judo trophies in his room had inevitably dug up. The city meant his future, possibly his big break into the professional MMA scene. It meant Zeke and his shitty craft beers on the weekends that he couldn’t be left alone with his thoughts. It meant Armin and hanging out together whenever they could spare the time, like they had done all summer. It meant Mikasa _. Mikasa._

He was only too happy to leave the past behind. He had to keep moving forward.

-o-

Levi didn’t like the city as much as his reckless brat of a student seemed to. There were far too many people for his liking, and noisy people at that. In the middle of a traffic jam on the highway, he started to miss his quiet afternoons drinking tea in his shitty apartment, because those days were preferable to the cacophony of cars honking and strangers yelling expletives at each other in the middle of an intersection. But as he cast a sidelong glance at Eren, the kid seemed to be brimming with excitement in a way that he hadn’t seen him in a while.

“You seem happy,” Levi observed.

Eren seemed surprised at that. “Do I?” he asked thoughtfully. He turned his gaze towards the car window at all the people walking past. “I guess I am. I mean, happier than I’ve been in a while. I feel like I’m finally going somewhere. Like the past couple of years was worth it.”

Levi said nothing, letting out only a “hmm” of acknowledgment. After training the kid for more or less ten years now, he had witnessed firsthand his victories and failures. For a long time, the failures far outweighed the victories. Eren had always been the underdog, the rowdy little upstart, no matter who he was up against. Even sparring against Mikasa when he was barely ten often had him at a disadvantage. Nothing about what the kid ever did was effortless. On the contrary, whatever he did, he did with all his effort. But the kid had heart, even if often he didn’t have much more than that.

He wasn’t sure when he’d started, but somewhere along the way, he’d pinned all the hope he had left on him. It was something he hadn’t really noticed, something gradual and slow, that somehow watching this kid reach his dreams had become a dream of his, too.

“He reminds me of someone,” Erwin told him later at the gym. Eren dove in headfirst to the new training camp with the rest of the trainees, and it was clear that the kid had no intention of slacking off on his first day. And Erwin, never one to hang back, had come to visit to check out his newest investment. Judging from his expression, Levi felt that maybe the other man saw some promise there too.

“Yeah?” Levi asked, not even needing to look up at Erwin to know that he was smiling. He could hear it in the older man’s voice, plain as day.

“Yeah, some guy I knew some years back,” Erwin continued, the smile still coloring his tone like nothing else. “Angry kid. Always had something to prove. Even when he was basically paralyzed from the waist down, wouldn’t stop fighting.” The blond looked down at him, the glint in his eyes amused. “Sound familiar to you at all?”

Levi scoffed. “He sounds like a jackass.”

Erwin laughed at that. “All I’m saying is, I can see why you’re rooting for the kid. Kind of makes me want to root for him too,” he admitted. “But that anger of his, he has to rein it in. There’s a time and a place, and it’s not in the ring.”

-o-

Mikasa had spent most of her life taking care of her friends, so much so that when they became protective over her for a change, she wasn’t sure how to take it. She’d been their designated protector and mom friend for as long as she could remember, and when they turned it around, she found herself unable to sit still and say thank you. Case in point: when she mentioned offhand in their group chat that she had an appointment with her physical therapist that afternoon, Eren and Armin _insisted_ that Armin drive her there and pick her up afterwards.

 _It’s just one bus ride away,_ she typed, _I’ll be just fine on my own._

To which the response was a resounding no.

It was kind of sweet and kind of touching that they cared for her so much, that was for certain, but Mikasa still fidgeted in the passenger seat of Armin’s car. “Thanks again, Armin,” she told him as he rounded the corner right by her therapist’s clinic. “But you really didn’t have to.”

Armin grinned. “At the risk of being cliche, what are friends for?” When this didn’t seem to work, her friend’s expression softened. “Come on, Mikasa. It’s nothing. We know how strong you are. And how… freakishly fast… your knee is healing. But let us help you, okay? We care about you.”

“I know,” she answered, her gaze dropping to her hands on her lap.

Armin didn’t seem convinced by this, for good reason. He looked at her and reached out, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. “You know, during your operation, Eren wouldn’t leave the waiting room at all,” he recalled fondly, biting back a teasing smile. “For _hours._ I tried to get him to take a walk, grab some coffee, whatever, but he wouldn’t move an inch. And then when you were moved to the recovery room, he wouldn’t leave your side there, either. Said he wanted to be there when you woke up. Our Eren, who could never sit still for two seconds together? I thought I was witnessing a miracle.”

Mikasa blushed at that. She was past questioning Eren’s feelings for her now. They were dating after all. But still, knowing that all that had happened, that she inspired something in Eren that he also inspired in her, stirred something in her she couldn’t quite name. “He… he did that?” she stammered.

Now this seemed to be just the reaction Armin wanted, because he finally smiled at her. “Yeah, he did,” he said, satisfied. “Let us care about you like you care about us, okay?”

“Okay,” she conceded. “Thank you. I’ll see you later?” she asked then, opening the door to let herself out.

“Yeah,” Armin said with a nod. “You better not take the bus home instead, or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“... I’ll tell Eren!”

“Bold of you to think I’m scared of Eren.”

Armin laughed at that. “Well, it was worth a try,” he replied. “But I mean it. I’ll pick you up, and we can all go to dinner.” She stood at the curb waving goodbye, still marveling at how Armin always knew the right things to say. She watched him pull away before heading into the clinic.

Her therapist, to whom Dr. Zoe had referred her, was all amazement at how quickly she was recovering. Mikasa had always healed faster, ever since she was a kid, and she was thankful that this didn’t seem to be an exception. Her knee hardly gave out these days, and she was taking great care not to put pressure on it. Now, she actually _wanted_ to get better.

The session went by quickly enough, and before she knew it, her hour was up. She said goodbye to her therapist and walked out into the hallway, where she caught sight of a familiar flash of pale blond hair and a deceptively tiny frame. She must have seen her too, because Annie Leonhart turned around to look at her impassively. “Mikasa,” she said in greeting, “It’s been a while.”

“A while” was an understatement. She and Annie had been bitter rivals in their high school judo circuit. For two or three years, the final round of most of their tournaments had them both vying for first place. Since Mikasa had stopped competing, she hadn’t seen Annie at all. She felt the corners of her lips curl up in a bit of a nostalgic smile, though she was almost sure Annie would call her out for it. “Annie,” she replied, also in greeting. “What are you doing here?”

The girl lifted her arm in response, showing her a bandaged wrist. “Sprain,” she said by way of explanation. Wrinkling her nose with distaste, she added, “And get that grin off your face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were actually happy to see me.”

There it was. Mikasa resisted the urge to laugh. “Weirdly enough, I guess I am,” she admitted. Back in high school, the two had been pit against each other so often that the rivalry had almost become part of them. Some time ago, they had been trash-talking each other and slinging casually veiled threats just because their little competition seemed to dictate it. But Mikasa found, standing in front of Annie now, that she felt no anger towards her at all. In fact, she felt nothing but respect and an odd sort of nostalgia.

“Gross,” Annie shot back, but she still lingered in front of Mikasa as she asked, “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Rehab,” she answered, “Got an operation for my torn ACL over the summer.”

The blonde nodded. “Is that why you quit judo?”

“Yeah. I didn’t decide on getting the operation until recently, and I couldn’t really compete the way I was,” Mikasa said slowly. She hadn’t really told anyone back then what had happened. The way she stopped competing had been more like her just dropping off the face of the earth: she didn’t contact anyone she met through her competitions, didn’t notify the federation she was quitting - she just stopped showing up. She didn’t think anyone really cared enough to notice, if she was being honest. She was just one of many high school students whose dreams had stopped abruptly when she graduated.

Annie considered this, her icy blue eyes not leaving Mikasa’s face. “So are you getting back into it?”

Mikasa thought for a moment before she replied, “Yeah. I think I am.”

She wondered if she imagined the twitch of Annie’s lips. “Good,” the other girl said, “It was getting boring without you anyway.”

They walked towards the exit together, with Annie catching her up on all that had happened while she was gone, occasionally complaining about some new rule or another. As they stood in the hallway companionably, she felt like finally telling someone she was coming back meant that she had finally chosen something for herself. Over the past year or so, she had been paralyzed by indecision, not sure if she was right to want the things she wanted. Even if it was just a little thing, telling Annie she wanted to compete again, it felt like _saying it_ made it more real. Like she was finally making peace with her past, and she could finally look towards her future.

Just then, an idea came to Mikasa, which she blurted out suddenly: “Hey, do you want to join us for dinner?”

Annie looked surprised by the invitation. “Uh…” she started, not really sure why the offer was extended in the first place. “Who’s ‘us’?”

“Me…”

“Gross.”

“... Eren…”

“Very gross.”

“... and Armin. You know our friend, Armin, right?” she asked.

Annie’s brow furrowed. “Your nerdy friend? That one who always tagged along with you guys to your fights?”

“Oh good, you do know him.”

“You two only _have_ one other friend, it’s not hard.”

Mikasa couldn’t find any fault with this logic, so she just shrugged in response. “So is that a yes?”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. But you’re paying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I have no excuses besides the fact that canon has been difficult to draw inspiration from lately, but I'm committed to finishing this fic at least. (I do have a couple of multi-chapter fic ideas lined up that may possibly have to wait until the end of the manga to see the light of day, but... we'll cross that bridge when we get there, lol.) Hope you guys are still doing well through the angst of the final arc and the angst of the anime!!


	12. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The double date goes well, until it doesn't. Eren finally decides to make peace with his own personal demons.

“They’re hitting it off, aren’t they?”

“What?” Eren asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “No, they aren’t.”

Mikasa peered across the table at their best friend, who was talking animatedly to Annie about recent advancements in forensics. Annie, for her part, looked like it was the most interesting thing she had ever heard. The blond girl rested her head in her palm and looked at Armin with some amusement. Both of them had pretty much completely ignored the dimsum quickly getting cold in front of them. Shrugging over at Eren, she said, gesturing vaguely with her chopsticks, “No, I’ve worn _that_ look often enough.”

Eren popped an egg roll into his mouth, having picked it up from Armin’s plate just to see if he would notice that he’d stolen his food. No such luck. Their best friend continued to talk about this recent murder case that was completely won on the basis of physical evidence, because the defense attorney argued that the angle of the stab wound could not have possibly been inflicted by a person of the suspect’s size. He seemed none the wiser that he was now one egg roll short, nor did he look like he would care even if he knew. Annie, too, seemed suspiciously interested in the topic of stabbing, though in retrospect, this didn’t really surprise Mikasa.

Having given up on getting Armin’s attention through food theft, Eren turned to her, raising an eyebrow. In the same hushed voices they’d been using all evening, he asked in an accusatory tone, “Couldn’t you have caught on quicker when _I_ was looking at you like that?” His lips were slightly down-turned in a rather adorable attempt at a pout, and Mikasa fought down the temptation to pull at his lower lip in a show of cute aggression.

“Couldn’t you have?” she hissed back, but she was well aware that her face had probably gone completely red once again. Eren really seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of her, because he did it well and often. Seeing that he succeeded at that yet again, the corner of his lips twisted into a lopsided, wicked little half-smile. If her heart could have done backflips, it would have.

Annie’s dry voice cut into the moment between them, only just now having looked up from her conversation with Armin. “No PDA, please.”

Eren rolled his eyes. And, because he always did the exact opposite of what he was told, reached down the bench and took Mikasa’s hand in his, lacing his fingers through hers. She bit her lip, staring down at the table, unable to meet anyone else’s eyes, especially not as Eren’s thumb traced slow, careless circles around her knuckles.

When she invited Annie to join them for dinner, she wasn’t quite sure if the other girl would accept. After all, they had been rivals for most of the time that they’d known each other, and had probably caused each other no small number of minor sprains and bruises over the years. But as they stood in the lobby of the clinic earlier that day, Mikasa had felt like they were much closer to good friends than she had previously thought. And it seemed - despite the shit Annie was giving Eren - that she felt the same way, too.

It was, however, no small amount of shit she was sending Eren’s way. Almost from the moment Armin picked Eren up from the gym, the two had been going at it as though they were on the mat in a judo tournament: with a single-minded determination to take the other down. Eren had always taken Annie’s jabs in Mikasa’s direction more personally than Mikasa herself, as though her honor ever needed defending. Added to that was the fact that Annie and Reiner had gone to the same school and were on the same judo team. He probably considered her a snake just by association. Annie, on the other hand, seemed to share the same contempt of Eren that he had of her, and had no qualms making that clear.

“So, Mikasa, since you’re thinking of getting back into judo, have you found yourself a coach yet?” Annie asked, turning her attention to her now. “Are you gonna go with that cousin of yours still?”

Mikasa looked up at that, casting a sidelong glance at Eren and Armin as she did. She hadn’t really told them yet that she’d decided on it already, more talking about it as something she wanted to go back to “someday” or “when she was better”. To talk about it was to make it real, and she wasn’t sure if she had that kind of courage before today. She still wasn’t sure if she had it now, if she was being perfectly honest. But looking at her friends’ eyes shine with genuine support and happiness for her made her wonder if maybe she was scared for nothing.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” she answered honestly. Her gray eyes darted over to Eren before she added, “I think Levi might have his hands full in the foreseeable future, but I’ll have to ask him.”

Eren made a face at her, clearly affronted. “Are you calling me a handful?”

She smirked at that. “You know you are,” she pointed out, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze.

From across the table, Annie rolled her eyes. Next to her, Armin said, “It’s good though, that you made up your mind, I mean. I know we were talking about it over the summer, but in the end, it was up to you to make that decision. And I’m proud of you for making it.” He reached over and gave her arm a supportive little squeeze as he smiled at her warmly.

Annie looked at the three of them, probably amused at how touchy-feely they were being. “So do you guys usually get together to eat and hold each other’s hands?” she asked teasingly.

Eren saw the opportunity and took it. “Y’know, Annie, if you wanted to hold Armin’s hand, all you had to do was ask.”

The joke was met with a death glare and a precisely aimed wonton, right on Eren’s face.

The four of them talked a bit more as they finished the rest of the Chinese food in front of them, but before long, it became clear to Mikasa that there was something that Eren wasn’t really telling them. Sure, he made jokes and gave Annie about as much shit as she flung at him, but he was a bit more restless than usual, and she had no idea why. While they waited for the server to come back with their bill, she put a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Hey, are you all right?”

Eren’s green eyes met her gray ones, and what she found in his gaze was hesitation. He didn’t really _want_ to tell her, and so she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear it. But she waited patiently for him to decide if he would open up. He must have decided on it, because he said, finally, “My sponsor decided my next match.” He paused a bit, still unsure of himself, before he continued, “After the training camp, I was supposed to be fighting Reiner.”

Mikasa and Armin’s eyes widened in alarm. Across the table from them, Annie looked away, as though she figured that this was not a conversation she ought to take part in. Eren was disgruntled and it showed. “Why?” Armin was the first to ask.

“I don’t know,” Eren answered, exasperated. “The match with Porco got a lot of attention, probably more attention than any of us thought it would. Mr. Smith thought that we should strike while the iron is hot, drum up an even bigger scene. And when he heard that Reiner and I used to know each other from judo, with Reiner being one of the biggest amateur fighters this side of the country, I guess he thought it would be good PR.”

Mikasa watched him sympathetically, trying to gauge how he was feeling. She thought he knew him well enough to know just what was going through his mind, but in this, he seemed impenetrable. There were a lot of emotions there, clouding his judgment: anger, pain, betrayal, regret. For Reiner, it must have been the same, if their last meeting had shown her anything. That was not the face of a man gloating over getting one over a former friend.

“He turned it down,” he continued, the bitterness seeping into his voice like venom.

This, Mikasa believed. The way Reiner looked that day was nothing like someone who still wanted to fight. He had warned her this would happen, that maybe they would be forced to face each other again. She just didn’t think it would be so soon. Apparently, neither did he, because he had rejected the match the moment it was proposed.

Eren went on, a mask of near arrogance slipping back on his face. Somehow, it didn’t look all that convincing to her, but she didn’t say a thing. “You know what, I thought maybe this is karma. That maybe it was time for me to pay him back for what he did to me back then. I guess he was just scared of getting exactly what he deserves.”

“Eren…” Mikasa started, her voice soft. Seeing him angry and vindictive always pained her in a way she couldn’t quite pin down. Was it that she was remembering the way he looked at her that night after his defeat, when he lashed out at her? Maybe. But maybe it was also the fact that she knew his capacity for kindness and compassion, and seeing him slip into his worst self ate at her inside.

The expression on his face hardened. “No, Mikasa,” he snapped, “He sold me out to his new teammate and got me disqualified. If not for him I wouldn’t have had to give up judo at all. It’s about damn time he got what was coming to him.”

That silenced her, not because she didn’t know what to say, but because she was afraid that if she said it now, he would point that anger at her. And she had promised her mother she would be careful not to let him hurt her. It was a promise that she only just now realized was dangerously difficult to keep.

It was Annie who broke the silence when she burst into sardonic laughter. The sound was so jarring that the three of them turned to look at her in stunned silence. “God, Eren,” Annie said finally, an edge to her voice, “If you could get your head out of your ass for one second, maybe you could see from someone else’s point of view for once.”

A familiar anger welled up inside Mikasa, and instinct told her to come to Eren’s defense. Reason, however, told her that Annie had a point. This grudge that Eren was bearing was helping no one, and three years after the fact, it was more of a burden to Eren than he maybe even knew.

Armin looked at her plaintively, the sudden outburst putting a damper on the evening that he looked uncomfortable with. “Annie, what do you mean?” he asked, as though an explanation would be enough to set things right.

The blonde stood up, shaking her head dismissively. “That’s not my story to tell,” she said firmly, her hands on the table. Looking at Mikasa with genuine regret, she said, “Mikasa, thanks for inviting me. But I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Armin cast a worried glance over at his two friends before saying, “Annie, it’s late. I’ll drive you home.”

“I…” Annie started, clearly about to protest. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s the least I can do. We invited you, I should see you home at least.” He nodded to Eren and Mikasa, who were quiet as the two left.

The silence between them was heavy with words unsaid, words that Mikasa wasn’t sure he would forgive her for saying. So she stayed quiet, instead fussing over the bill when it arrived and paying their tab. The two of them walked out into the street, waiting for a cab to take them back. Eren seemed to be deep in thought, maybe because of what Annie said, and she didn’t want to force him to talk to her when he wasn’t ready.

“Aren’t you going to tell me to give it up?” he asked finally, “Aren’t you going to tell me not to fight Reiner if the chance comes up again?”

She looked at him then, surprised that that’s what he thought she was going to do. But then, she couldn’t exactly say it didn’t cross her mind. When Eren told her that a fight with Reiner was in the foreseeable future, she knew that no matter the outcome, the fight would hurt him. There was simply too much history there, and carrying three years worth of anger in your heart was a burden she couldn’t imagine, much less if she had to face the object of all that hatred yet again.

“No,” she answered truthfully, “I’m not.” She looked down at the pavement, at her shoes, at the shadows they cast together in the warm yellow cast by the streetlights. “I trust you, Eren. This is what you’re training for. This is what you want to do. I can see that now. I don’t have any right to tell you not to.”

Despite the sincerity in her words, her response didn’t seem to calm him all that much. “Then what are you looking at me like that for?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Like…” he began, frustrated. “Like you’re sad, or scared, or… I don’t know, disappointed.” Something in his voice broke as he reached out for her, putting both hands on her face. Instinctively, her hands reached up to cover his, as though the warmth would reassure him. She hoped it would.

“He was your friend once, too,” she said quietly. “It must hurt to have to hate him like this.”

Eren didn’t move, then, keeping his hands where they were. Around them, the wind blew, carrying with it the bite of fall. Summer was truly over now. Mikasa dropped her gaze from his, instead looking down at the sidewalk. “Your anger is valid, Eren. Of course it is. He hurt you and you want to hurt him back. I’m not telling you that you have to forgive him if you don’t want to,” she went on, her thumbs tracing lines on the back of his hands soothingly. “But it’s still hurting you even now. I just want you to have a little peace.” She leaned her face into his palm and pressed a kiss there. “Think about it, okay?”

He reached out, then, and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer to him. He buried his face in her hair, silent for a moment as he just held her. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he murmured, his words a breath in her ear. She heard it in his voice: the fact that he was as scared of her disappointment as she had been at his anger; that they were skirting each other’s worst feelings instead of accepting them.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” she assured him, holding him even tighter.

-o-

Three months passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. Eren threw himself into the remainder of his training program. Dismayed but undeterred, Erwin lined up a match or two for him once the training camp was over. The opponents he found for him were in no way close to Reiner’s level, but good enough at least to keep the interest on Eren before Erwin tried to broker another match. “It’s about building your reputation,” Erwin explained to him, clearly an old hand at this. “While your last match got everyone’s attention, Braun’s probably a match or two from moving up to the big leagues. You’re still a rookie by those standards. So we’ll work up to it.”

Levi, on the other hand, was apprehensive about matching up Eren and a former rival and made that no secret to Erwin Smith. He knew, better than almost anyone, that Eren was a loose cannon when he was angry, and was only too glad to hear that Reiner had turned the match down.

In that time, Mikasa’s words weighed on his mind. The knee-jerk reaction had been hurt, of course. She was supposed to be in _his_ corner, not anyone else’s. But the look in her eyes that night didn’t speak of anything other than unwavering love and devotion. That same look imprinted on his mind, along with her words: _I just want you to have a little peace._

He breezed through his next fight with an ease that was unexpected but welcome. The couple months of training had paid off. His opponent had been a promising newcomer with a stellar karate background, who was known for long drawn out fights and wearing down his opposition. Eren had knocked him out in less than fifteen minutes, barely into the third round. When the high of victory wore off, thoughts of having to face Reiner again filled his mind, and he knew Mikasa was right: three years after the fact, losing a friend in what he thought was the worst possible way still hung over his head like a dark cloud.

That same cloud seemed to follow him around until he found himself at the door of Reiner’s gym the day after his fight. He wasn’t sure what he came for, if he wanted to confront Reiner after all this time or if he really was ready to let it go. All was quiet as he slid the door open. Had he come too late in the day?

As luck would have it, Reiner Braun was all alone, shadow-boxing in the middle of the ring. He had always been like that, even when they were in high school: always the last one to leave, even when everyone else had already gone. When he heard the door slide open, he turned around, his eyes widening in shock when he saw who was standing there. Eren couldn’t say he blamed him. After their last meeting, Eren had made it perfectly clear that he never wanted to see Reiner again. Intentionally seeking him out was probably the last thing Reiner expected from him.

“Hey, Reiner,” Eren said in greeting, his face placid as he stalled in the doorway. That weight that bore down on him felt even heavier now, the kind of pressure that came with momentous decisions. He took a few slow steps closer to the ring in the middle of the room, letting his eyes roam the place. It was a good setup, clearly a step up from Levi’s dark, dingy little gym in the suburbs. At face value he could understand why Reiner left.

“Eren,” Reiner said finally, as if he’d only just remembered how to speak. “What are you doing here?”

Eren looked up at him with a shrug. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to talk?” he asked skeptically.

The other man looked down at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. “You made it pretty clear the last time we met that talking was the last thing you wanted to do,” he said, something in his voice tinged with regret. “So what are you doing here, Eren?” he repeated his question. “Come to get your revenge?”

Eren shrugged, hoisting himself up onto the ring and through the ropes. “Maybe.”

“That right?” Reiner asked, pained. Looking away, he smiled sadly. “Go on then, I’ll give you a free swing. God knows I deserve it.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Eren’s fist connected with Reiner’s jaw, sending the taller man staggering back several paces. Reiner whipped his head around, his expression alarmed, as though he didn’t actually expect Eren to throw a punch. Eren flexed his hand, the knuckles of it having reddened from the impact. The rush felt exhilarating somehow, like the three years of hurt and betrayal that he had been holding back now came up to the surface, overflowing, leaking through the cracks.

Turning back to Reiner, he took another swing, aiming this time for the other man’s midsection. But Reiner was prepared now, and he blocked the punch. Still, the impact forced him into the ropes, and he grit his teeth as he tried to get Eren off of him. Eren stumbled back from the sheer strength with which Reiner pushed him.

With a bit more space between them now, Eren could see that Reiner’s brow was furrowed, his eyes scanning Eren’s face for any hint of hostility or malicious intent. For the life of him, he had no idea what showed on his face and what didn’t. All he knew was the painfully familiar anger inside him, as close to him as a friend, as poisonous to him as an enemy.

Reiner charged at him, taking advantage of his size, trying to crowd Eren into a corner with intimidation if not sheer strength. But Eren was a different person now from the one who’d sparred with Reiner more than three years ago; he was no longer someone easily scared or defeated. He dodged Reiner’s graceless lunge with ease. But Reiner, too, had changed since then. Eren remembered him as slow and lumbering, his reflexes not as great as his technical skill and pure physical ability. Reiner recovered from Eren’s feint almost instantly, wheeling around to grab him around the shoulders.

Eren pushed back, grabbing Reiner by the arms, too, resisting the throw that was surely about to come. He knew well how Reiner fought, could read the guy like the back of his hand, even if _this_ particular fight had no rules they had to stick to. He struggled to keep his balance, trying his best not to be overpowered. Neither of them budged, and it soon became clear to them that they were more or less evenly matched.

Reiner broke the hold first, bringing his knee up to Eren’s stomach and knocking the wind right out of him. Eren doubled back, his recovery a split second too late. Reiner hoisted him by the arms and threw him bodily over his shoulder and into the mat. Eren writhed from the pain for just a moment, rolling over to make sure Reiner couldn’t keep him on the ground. He pushed himself up off the ground with his elbows and faced Reiner once again. Both of them heaved labored breaths, each one watching to see what the other would do next.

They each took steps toward each other then, tentative at first and then more sure-footed. They exchanged blows until bruises bloomed on both of them and they were both worn out: Reiner from the long day of training, Eren from the previous day’s match. They sank to the mat, Eren lying on his back, Reiner with his back against one corner. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Eren felt like every muscle in his body ached from the exertion.

“What were you going to say, when you came to see me before that match with Galliard?” Eren asked finally.

Reiner seemed stunned that he had asked, as if he thought there were no words that could possibly be spoken between them. “I was going to apologize,” he admitted, casting his eyes on the ground. The guilt was plain on his face as he added, “I know, it was way too little, too late. I should have talked to you as soon as it had happened, but I got carried away and then I lost my chance to explain myself. And then I figured that even if I did, you wouldn’t understand anyway.”

“So tell me now,” Eren replied.

Reiner looked over at him, the sad look still in his eyes. “It’s not like I wanted to leave Levi’s gym. I grew up in that town, got trained with you guys,” he shook his head. “But my dad wanted nothing to do with us. Mom had to support me all by herself, and joining tournaments isn’t cheap, especially not for a single mom.” He let his gaze drop again. Even in the badly lit gym Eren could pick out the bumps and bruises that he’d inflicted, and he knew with certainty that Reiner was in as much pain as he was. The vindictive part of him said _good;_ the other part continued to listen.

“So when I got offered a scholarship specifically for judo, I took it. But the kids at my new club called me weak, pushed me around. And they were right. I was nowhere near as good as them and I knew it. I wanted them to respect me. I wanted them to think I was cool. I wanted them to accept me,” he winced at the admission, at how it all sounded so juvenile to him now. “I heard they were having trouble competing with you guys. I mean, Mikasa was the best in the district, and you weren’t so bad yourself, getting silvers and golds in every tournament you joined. So I told them… that you easily lost your temper and that it had always been your weakness.”

Here it was, the admission Eren had long been waiting for. But instead of summoning back the anger that he had held on to for so long, he felt nothing but regret: an empty cave where his hatred used to be. It felt strange and unnatural, but oddly enough, he had never felt so free.

Reiner shook his head once again. “I’m sorry. I know it was a stupid reason to sell you out, and an even stupider one not to apologize as soon as I did it,” he said, his voice heavy with self-reproach.

Eren was quiet for a long time, until finally he said, “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

“What?” Reiner asked, not sure if he could trust what he was hearing.

He pushed himself up off the mat, drawing himself into a sitting position. He looked down at his hands, scuffed and bruised from their earlier fight. “You did sell me out. But I was the one who took the bait, didn’t I?” he asked, sighing. “I was so ashamed that I let myself get carried away. I knew it was against the rules, but I was so angry I couldn’t even see straight. And I wanted someone to blame besides myself.”

When Reiner said nothing, he got up off the ground, brushing the dust off his pants as he did. He reached over and offered a hand to help Reiner get back up, too. Hesitantly, Reiner took it, scrambling to his feet uncertainly. “Someone told me staying angry at someone for so long hurts everyone involved. And she was right, as always,” he said, a small smile creeping onto his face. “I don’t want to hate you anymore, Reiner.”

Reiner wrinkled his nose. “If that’s your idea of making peace, you really have to work on it, Eren.” He laughed, and after a beat, Eren did, too, until they stopped, half out-of-breath, their ribs aching from the effort. After a moment, he added gently, “If you still want to fight, I’ll accept it this time.”

Eren raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you excited to get your ass handed to you again.”

“I’d much prefer to face you in the ring, where there are _rules,”_ Reiner pointed to the bump that had formed, red and swelling, on his jaw. “If we were in an actual match you would have been fouled out already.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hit _me_ in the face,” he replied.

“And risk getting Mikasa mad at me? Sorry, Eren, but your girlfriend is _much_ scarier than you are.”

Eren smiled at that, nearly beaming with pride. _And much smarter, too,_ he added to himself. Were it not for her, he would still be carrying that weight around for who knows how long. Now, all beaten up and with every limb aching, he finally felt it gone: the weight of his frustration, his failure at keeping his own anger in check, his own grappling with his weaknesses.

He was finally _free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late! Work has been crazy for me recently and it doesn't look like things will ease up any time soon, so please expect updates to be a couple days later than usual (hopefully it won't stretch to more than two weeks at a time in between though)! 
> 
> Thanks once again to everyone who left kudos and comments on the previous chapters, I can't tell you how much it means to me!! I think I said it before, but this is my first time back in a fandom/into fic writing for several years (almost a decade) and I really haven't flexed the writing muscles in between so I was really nervous to be sharing my work again, so it means a lot to me to know that there are people who enjoy it. Please bear with me for a while longer!


	13. Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Mikasa finally put the past behind them. (Non-graphic smut (?) warning for this chapter.)

Eren had been extremely careful to downplay the extent of how sore he was in his text message to Mikasa, but he still should have known better. All he said was that he “paid a visit to Reiner” and “not to worry, they made up” but that “he was going to take a day off from training tomorrow.” He thought long and hard before sending the messages through, mostly because he knew saying anything at all would just make her worry. But he wanted to tell her first, wanted to tell her more than anyone. So he threw caution to the wind and sent them. Naturally, despite his best efforts to make it sound like he wasn’t aching all over, she came knocking on the door of his apartment not half an hour later.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing she said the minute he opened the door, her brow furrowed in worry. Her hand went straight to his cheek as she tried to get a better look at him. When she didn’t find a single bruise or scrape on his face, the second thing she said was: “Take your shirt off.”

Despite himself, he raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Wow, Mikasa, in the doorway? The neighbors might see.” He had to bite back his amusement at just how quickly her face reddened at the comment. No matter how much he did it, getting a rise out of her just warmed him up inside.

“That’s not what I -” she started, frustrated but blushing all over in that way of hers that was equal parts hilarious and adorable. He planted a swift, innocent kiss on her forehead before stepping back to give her more room.

“Come on in,” he said, tilting his head towards the inside of his apartment.

She walked into his room as easily and familiarly as if she belonged there, and really, maybe she did. He watched, his lips quirked upward, as she picked up a shirt he’d shucked off and forgotten about on the floor last night and tossed it into the hamper next to his bed. In some ways it was no different from how they’d always been since they were kids: she would come over with Armin and feel right at home in his room. Truth be told, though, back then, he had never really imagined that they would turn out this way.

“I was really worried when I got your text,” she confessed, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I know you and Reiner… had a lot of painful history. I didn’t want to pressure you into accepting his apology if you weren’t ready for it. I just…” she sighed, fidgeting with her hands as she stood there in the middle of his room. “… I didn’t like seeing you hurting because of what had happened between you.”

“I know.”

She looked up at his face, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or if he was saying it for her benefit. He remembered how a few months ago he had to stop himself from touching her when she did this, afraid of scaring her away. Now, though, he reached for her on reflex, taking her hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. She seemed to calm at that, and asked, “And you’re really okay?”

He smiled wickedly. “I thought you were going to check for yourself?”

“Eren, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Eren let out a breath that was half a sigh, half a laugh. It was reflex to him to deflect serious conversations with jokes and bravado, but it seemed that she saw right through him. It only stood to reason that she would; she was one of the few people in the world who knew him better than anyone else. Probably, some days, better than he even knew himself. He sat down on his bed and took her other hand in his, too, as he looked up at her. “I’m okay, really,” he assured her, his smile soft. Her gaze was full of nothing but love for him and sometimes that scared him. Sometimes, he was worried that he would do something to hurt her again. It was taking some time for him to realize that she knew how vulnerable it made her, but she loved him anyway.

“I don’t really know what I was thinking when I went over there,” he murmured, his gaze dropping now to their hands, still clasped together between them. “But I knew you were right. It was a heavy thing, the grudge I had against him. So I thought I had to end it somehow, get it out of my system. I wasn’t thinking of listening to his apology at all. When I saw him, I was so angry I just… he told me to take a swing, and I did.” He chuckled at the memory, but the recollection of that anger tasted bitter in his mouth. How had he stayed so mad for so long? Now that he had finally let it go, he couldn’t imagine how he managed. “We just fought until we were both worn out. We could barely move.”

She was quiet as she listened to him, her fingers intertwining with his as she did. The warmth of her hands in his own was enough reassurance for him to keep going. He told her about their talk, about Reiner’s apology, about his admission of his own mistakes. He told her about the weight being lifted from his shoulders and the relief that came with it.

It was her turn, now, to press a soft kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you,” she murmured to him.

He wasn’t sure why, but those words had been exactly what he had needed to hear. He let go of her hands to wrap his arms around her and draw her close to him, so close until she was sitting on his lap, straddling him on the edge of the bed. He buried his face in her shoulder, feeling her warmth on his skin and breathing her in. He had been so preoccupied with the thought that he didn’t deserve her, but here she was, again and again, letting him know that she was there for him no matter what. Someone whose love he didn’t have to earn for once.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips moving gently against the crook of her neck. He felt her shiver in his grasp, and that made him smile devilishly as he continued to trace a line down her throat with his mouth. It amazed him, still, how someone so strong, someone who, without a doubt in his mind, was capable of throwing him bodily across a room, came to pieces under his touch. It amazed him even more that she actually _let_ him. Every day, he was glad that she did.

A sigh left her lips as a tiny bruise swelled to life where he’d bitten at the base of her neck. “I thought you said you were worn out,” she said, pushing him back halfheartedly. “You should probably sleep it off.” She looked down at him in concern, as though she would leave at the slightest hint that he was in pain.

He pouted up at her teasingly. “So you come on to _me_ and make me take _my_ shirt off, and now you’re telling me to go to sleep?”

She looked down at him, clearly struggling to keep her face impassive, but the tiny ghost of a smile won its way back on her lips nonetheless. “I think you’re bound and determined, one way or another, to have your shirt off right now,” she answered wryly.

Eren laughed at that, nearly breathless himself. “You’re right about that.”

She ran her hands down his chest, and her touch was enough to make his heart race, every time. Her eyes never left his as she touched him tentatively, hesitantly, checking to see if she would draw as much as a wince from him. He smiled, amused at just how gentle she was being, as though he might break at any moment. “Don’t worry about it,” he said again, reassuringly, “I promise, I’m fine.”

Emboldened by his words, her fingers closed around the hem of his shirt, easing it off of him and tossing it to the floor. She looked down at his torso, her fingers following along with her eyes as she tried to count the bruises. Indignation flashed through her gray eyes, a reflex of hers now whenever she saw him get hurt. But he loved that part of her too, loved the part of her that fought for him, tooth and nail, in any and every way she could. He smiled softly at her before he leaned in and pressed his lips to the crease in her brow. “Don’t be mad now,” he chuckled, “You should see the other guy.”

“You should see him when _I’m_ through with him,” she grumbled back.

Eren laughed again, even if it put a strain on him to do that. “Look at you, choosing violence,” he said, a hint of playful pride in his voice. “Am I rubbing off on you?” He cupped her cheek with his hand and ran a thumb over the scar just under her eye, remembering how Reiner had told him that she was a lot scarier than he was. In some ways, he was right. Mikasa Ackerman was a force of nature. A hurricane, probably, or a typhoon, and she would probably relish in the comparison. In other ways, though, she was the kindest, gentlest person he had ever known. How both sides of her fit together so seamlessly was a wonder.

She tilted her head, leaning her face into the palm of his hand. “Bold of you to assume it wasn’t _me_ who rubbed off on _you_ ,” she laughed, half-joking.

He leaned in closer, capturing her lips with his in a slow, lazy kiss. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he had never felt this _much_ before. The sheer force of his emotions threatened to push at the walls of his heart, leaking through the cracks, threatening to burst. As he pulled away, both their faces flushed, he whispered, “I love you, Mikasa,” a nearly inaudible plea.

She must have heard it, though, because she leaned in, closer, her hand on his chest as she did so. He followed her lead, letting her push him back into the bed. He looked up at her in awe as she hovered above him, her hands on either side of his head now. In the soft late afternoon light filtering in through the windows, she looked nothing short of dazzling. Strands of her hair came free from behind her ear, and he reached up to tuck them gently back away from her face. The gesture somehow made her blush even more deeply, and Eren, grinning, made a mental note of that for later.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

Seemingly eager to prove her own words, Mikasa lowered herself onto him until she could plant kisses along his jaw, down his neck, over his collarbone. He felt the gentle tug of her teeth against his clavicle and sighed despite himself. The moment the sound left his lips, he felt his face go warm from embarrassment. He glanced over at Mikasa, who seemed just as surprised as he was, both of their faces beet red from the heat of the moment. Her lips curved into a triumphant smile. “Oh, you liked that, did you?” she asked, the question tapering into a self-satisfied hum.

“Mikasa…” he started to say, but his words got lost in his throat as she pressed her hips into him. Her name morphed into a growl in his mouth as he tried to lift himself up and close the distance between them. He winced from the pain, only just now remembering that not several hours ago he had been on his back in a completely different way.

This didn’t escape her notice, because almost instantly, she propped herself back up, taking her weight off him in an instant. His whole body ached with the loss of contact. “You’re hurt, we should stop,” she said, breathlessly, as though she had been in a trance before that had been broken just in time. Hurriedly, she planted her hands on the bed to push herself up off it, but in one swift motion, Eren’s hand circled around her wrist.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, pulling her back in. She staggered for a moment, only barely holding her arms out to keep from landing on him. He held her flush against him anyway, not wanting to give her another chance to leave. He kissed her again, more fervently this time, as his hands worked to remedy the actual _injustice_ it was that she was still fully dressed.

His hands traveled leisurely up her legs, under her skirt, watching as she tried so hard to hold on to her control. One of his hands rested on her hip as the other wandered down the inside of her thigh. He heard her breath hitch in her throat and he smiled innocently up at her, as though patiently waiting for her next move.

In the quickly darkening light, she looked ethereal, painted yellow and red, as she lay naked now on top of him. Mikasa sat back up again, and he tried to follow suit, but she pushed him back down against the bed. “Don’t move,” she told him firmly, her eyes serious. Her hand traveled down his chest, skimming his abs, until they reached the top of his jeans. He squirmed, but one look from her was all it took to get him to stop.

Somehow, seeing her in control of him was… exciting.

If he were being honest, though, it had been that way for a while now, try as he might to believe otherwise. It had been _his heart_ at her feet, ever since he realized the mistake he made that night after his first ever fight. All she ever had to do was reach out and take it.

And take it she did.

It was how she undressed him, first with her eyes, dark and fierce and hungry and _beautiful_ , a question plain in them: _should I?_ Then, with her hands, sure and insistent. He watched with rapt attention as she lowered herself into him. For a moment, there was no other sound to be heard apart from their slow, shallow breaths: everything else had fallen away. There was just the two of them there, together.

Knowing she was here, knowing that she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, despite all of his faults and all of the hurts he’d caused her over the years tugged at his heart. All this time, he had been trying to do his best to deserve her love, and it turned out he really didn’t have to do a thing. She had given it to him freely, with all her heart, as a gift that needed no repayment. And the best thing he could do for her now was to love her back, as much as he could, for as long as she would let him.

-o-

It had been six months to the day since Mikasa’s operation. She hadn’t _exactly_ been counting the days, but she was fairly certain by the way that Levi showed up unannounced at her dorm, snapping at her to get dressed and come meet him in the parking lot, that it must be the day. He had been uncharacteristically considerate all throughout her recovery, asking her every now and then how her knee was, was she doing better, was the physical therapist okay because if he wasn’t we could change him, and so on. It was kind of sweet, being one of the very few people in the world who got to see her cousin like this - so she gave his bad mood a pass for now.

She found him already getting into the driver’s seat of his beat up old sedan. She let herself into the seat next to him, slipping on her seatbelt as she did so. When she looked at him expectantly, she could only ask: “What?”

“You’re not even going to ask me where we’re going?” he asked her back, raising an eyebrow.

Mikasa blinked at that. “I mean, you probably aren’t going to take me to get ice cream,” she replied. “I thought we were going to see Dr. Zoe. Or did I get the date wrong?”

Levi waved dismissively, reaching out to start the engine. “No, you got it right. I was just starting to wonder if maybe you’d forgotten,” he answered. Something that was not _quite_ a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but Mikasa knew that that in itself was already a rare occurrence. He had started to pull away from their dormitory parking lot when he began: “Oi, Mikasa.”

“Hmm?” She knew that with Levi it was hardly _ever_ Mikasa, more often just the “oi” or “gloomy brat”, so that whenever he actually said her name, she knew he was being serious. Even if she _was_ tempted to poke fun at it, she sat there and waited to hear what he was going to say.

“Whatever that shitty four-eyes tells you today…” he started, hesitating, as though he was actually worried about her feelings and wanted her to know it. That was a first. Seeing Levi so considerate was nothing new; she knew that he cared about her even if he showed it in strange, roundabout ways. But actually hearing him try to comfort her in advance just in case Dr. Zoe wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to hear was another genre of heartwarming altogether. “… I want you to know, I’m proud of you either way, okay?”

Mikasa fought back a grin. “Thanks,” she answered, “… Mom.”

Levi sneered at her, only half-menacingly. “Brat.”

She held back her laughter and Levi pretended not to smile as they started the long drive back to their hometown and Dr. Zoe’s office. After a couple hours’ drive, they pulled up outside the clinic, and Mikasa’s hand hovered over the car door, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

All things considered, Mikasa Ackerman was scared of very few things in this life. But somehow, sitting here mere _minutes_ away from knowing whether her operation and therapy were successful, she felt herself tremble. For a moment she wondered if she could stay suspended in this moment, here, where she could forever pretend that nothing will change, where she could stay stuck simply _not knowing._ But she shook that thought away. If there was one thing she had learned this year, it was that fear was paralysis.

Fear promised her that things would never get worse if she did nothing. But it also promised her that things would never get better.

Levi watched her, his face impassive. “You okay?”

Steeling herself, Mikasa nodded, finally willing herself to get out of the car. “Yeah. I am.”

Dr. Zoe bickered good-naturedly with Levi as they performed the tests that by now felt routine to Mikasa. If the doctor had picked up on her being even quieter than usual, they didn’t say a thing about it. Levi, for his part, tactfully tried to make sure Dr. Zoe wouldn’t get a chance to fill the silence with their enthusiastic but extremely personal questions. It was kind of funny, really, watching Levi play interference for her sake. She had to remember to thank him later, when her anxiety wasn’t eating her up inside.

The only outward sign of that while they sat there waiting for the test results were her hands fidgeting with the hem of her cardigan. She cast a few sidelong glances at Levi. He looked back at her in what she felt might have been his attempt at compassion. But Levi was not one to give comfort, so Mikasa didn’t ask for it as she sat there and waited. After what felt like too long, Dr. Zoe reentered the room and took a seat behind their desk. Folding their arms over their chest, they smiled, bemused. “From the look on your face, Levi, you’d think _you’re_ the injured one here.”

“Cut to the chase, shitty four-eyes,” Levi snapped.

Dr. Zoe laughed at that. “All right, all right, relax,” they said, turning to Mikasa. “Mikasa, your recovery has been truly impressive. Clearly, you and Levi are related, because I’ve never seen anyone else recuperate at inhuman speed. Your therapist has been updating me regularly, too, and based on his recommendation and your test results, I feel confident in saying you can start getting back into judo, if that’s what you want.”

Mikasa felt her heart lurch in her chest, an inexplicable combination of relief and excitement welling up inside her. She got to her feet, unable to sit still after the news. “Thank you so much, Dr. Zoe.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Mikasa,” Dr. Zoe replied with an accommodating smile, “But this was as much your hard work as it was my doing, maybe even more so. And you are very lucky to be given a second chance. Not all athletes get one.”

She thought she saw Levi smile sadly before he got up off of his own seat. “Thanks, four-eyes. We really appreciate all your help,” he told Dr. Zoe, the sincerity evident in his voice.

Dr. Zoe rested their head on their palm, looking skeptically up at him. “You dropped the ‘shitty’ in ‘shitty four-eyes’, that’s how I know you mean it. Have a safe drive back to the city, you two.”

Mikasa felt a new lightness to her step as she walked out of the clinic, far more at ease than she had been when she entered. It seemed, now, that everything was truly ahead of her still: she could get back into judo, she could compete again, she could aim for the Olympics. She could restart her life. It was strange; she had convinced herself that she didn’t want it in the first place, and had closed herself off from the possibility of pursuing it. But that had felt like a cage that she couldn’t escape no matter how hard she tried.

Now that she was free to choose it again, she was going to choose it with all her heart.

“You look happy,” Levi observed as he came up behind her.

“Shouldn’t I be?” she asked him.

Her cousin didn’t answer the question, and instead beckoned towards the car. She got in obediently, expecting that they would head right back to the city so that Levi could get a couple of hours of training in for Eren. He surprised her, though, because he drove a short distance towards her favorite ice cream shop across from the park - the one that she, Eren, and Armin had practically grown up with. She looked over at him curiously. “What’s this for?”

“Isn’t it something to celebrate?” he asked. “I’m not offering twice.”

Mikasa needed no further motivation, and she followed him out of the car and into the shop. They sat at a table looking out into the park, and as she took small bites out of her cup of vanilla almond ice cream, she thought about everything that had just happened, about everything that had led up to this. Some time ago, she thought for sure that she was never going to fight again. And now here she was, allowing herself to hope once more.

“Levi,” she said finally, “Thank you for taking me to Dr. Zoe today. I know you were worried about me and I really appreciate it.” She looked up at him, just to let him know that she meant every word. “And if it isn’t too much to ask… would you be my coach again?”

Levi scoffed at that. “As if you _have_ anyone else you could ask.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “Is that a yes or a no?”

His expression softened, and he gave the crown of her head a gentle, affectionate pat. “It’s a yes,” he answered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “… Gloomy brat.”

She smirked at him. “You sure you won’t have your hands full? I mean, I’m sure training Eren is already a full-time job. Especially when he goes off on his own to pick fights you didn’t set up for him.”

He groaned. “Don’t remind me. Your boyfriend is more trouble than he’s worth.”

Mikasa laughed. “Maybe you said yes too soon. Have you forgotten what a nightmare we were when you were teaching us together?”

“How could I forget? Worst years of my life.” He cracked a smile, an actual smile this time, and Mikasa had to blink to make sure that she wasn’t just imagining things. He hopped off his seat and tilted his head back out towards his car. “Come on, kid. Your training starts tomorrow. You’re out of practice, so I won’t be going easy on you.”

She smiled, for once eager to be put through the ringer. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for the EM scene this chapter except that the blushy blushy scene in the anime had me thinking about Mikasa as a top for a whole week bye


End file.
